Harry Potter and the Ancient Secret of War
by Sauron of Mordor
Summary: As the darkness closes in, hope for the light remains. Can Harry pass the tests that can help him destroy his nemesis? Can he comprehend that magic isn't just wands and incantations but it lies deeper within? READ AND REVIEW.
1. Life at 4, Privet Drive

Harry Potter and The Ancient Secret of War  
  
Chapter One  
Life at 4, Privet Drive  
  
"Sirius!" Harry Potter sat up in his bed, feeling drops of sweat coursing their way from inside his skin through to the exterior. He tried to calm himself by inhaling deeply but was clearly finding it difficult to do so. So many things had happened, especially in the past year and a half, that his head ached whenever he tried to recollect the incidents during that time period. Yet Harry felt those thoughts rippling to the surface of his mind whenever he did not want to remember them. It was even worse when he tried to ignore or forget those memories, which were etched into his mind. These memories haunted him mostly at night while he slept, which meant that he was suffering from insomnia, albeit of a mild nature. Evidently, his dreams stopped him from sleeping for more than four hours a day; and that was hardly enough for an about-to-be sixteen year old.  
  
It had been happening every night since he had returned from school. Last year, his dreams had been about Cedric Diggory's death and the long corridor through to the Department of Mysteries. This year, the dream of passing through the corridor had been replaced by those dreams where he saw Sirius Black – his godfather – dying. Tonight's version had been more accusatory. Harry had seen Sirius scolding him for having led himself and his friends into the hands of the enemy. While chiding him for his irresponsible and reckless behaviour, Sirius was saying, "You could have checked me up with the help of the mirror. I thought I had told you precisely that about its purpose." At that moment, a curse hit Sirius right in the chest and he died, falling through a veil that stood on the dais where he and Harry were standing.  
  
It seemed to Harry that Sirius had fallen into another world altogether. He had tried to call out to him from the right side of the veil but his godfather didn't come back. He was still calling out to Sirius when Harry's dream gave way to the world of reality and he woke up with a start, still calling out the name of his godfather and sweating profusely all over.  
  
It had been the same all through the holidays. Harry really wanted to go back to his school – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a wizard, albeit a student only, but he could do quite a bit of magic with his wand. He was sixteen years old and was without doubt, the most famous teenage wizard of all time. Not that he cared though and the irony lay precisely in that fact, because Harry was famous for something that had happened so early in his life that he did not even remember that incident.  
  
Apparently, the peace of the wizarding world had been disturbed considerably some forty years ago when Lord Voldemort – the most powerful Dark wizard of the century – had started trying to capture power. He had raised a formidable army of Death Eaters (Dark wizards faithful to himself) and many other dangerous creatures like Dementors and the giants. At that time, there had been widespread turmoil in the wizarding world with Voldemort and his Death Eaters killing most of the wizards who stood against them. Even the wall that separated the non-magical world from the magical world was threatened. In fact, it was breached on several occasions when Voldemort and his supporters committed mass murders of Muggles (non- magical people). What with covering up such massacres and fighting Voldemort, the Ministry of Magic was finding it very difficult to maintain order among wizards.  
  
During the height of Voldemort's power, a prophecy had been made about Harry being the only person who could overcome the Dark Lord for good. Having heard the prophecy, Voldemort had decided to kill Harry. He went to the house were baby Harry (he was one then) lived with his parents. After having murdered both his parents, Voldemort had tried to kill Harry. However, the killing curse had deflected back from Harry and rebounded upon Voldemort, who had to flee from the scene, in the form of a spirit without any physical form. That night onwards, there had been an uneasy peace in the wizarding world and Harry had earned the reputation of being 'The Boy Who Lived'.  
  
After his parents' death, Harry had lived ten long years with the Dursleys – his only living relatives. Petunia Dursley was the only sister of Lily Potter and that meant that Harry had been condemned to living with her family till he came of age. He had to spend his time at the Dursleys being ill-treated and neglected. At the age of eleven, he had received an owl from Hogwarts telling him that he was a wizard. Harry had never looked back since then and had now completed five years studying magic alongwith his best friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Still, he had to return to his aunt and uncle every summer and even though he knew the reason for having to do so, Harry did not find the prospect too comforting.  
  
Although Lord Voldemort had lost his physical form, his spirit had lost none of its potency. He was still as cunning, evil and deceitful as ever. It was this form whom Harry had stopped from regaining power while still being in his first year at Hogwarts. But things had definitely taken a turn for the worse during Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. At that time, Harry had been a witness to the restoration o0f Lord Voldemort to his old body. Voldemort had killed his fellow student – Cedric Diggory and Harry had barely managed to escape back to Hogwarts, alongwith Cedric's dead body.  
  
The Ministry of Magic had been oblivious to all that was going on with Voldemort and had taken apart the images of Harry and Dumbledore in a bid to deny the return of Voldemort. It had spent the whole year trying to suppress the truth. Then last month, Sirius had died in the Department of Mysteries. Harry had been confronted by Lord Voldemort yet again and had escaped him (again) – for most part due to the protection provided by Dumbledore.  
  
Ah yes! Albus Dumbledore! Harry's Headmaster at Hogwarts and without doubt, the greatest wizard alive. As the days were crawling by, Harry found himself wishing more and more often that he were powerful like Dumbledore, who had made a life-threatening duel with none other than Voldemort, seem like a casual stroll in the park. Harry wished it so that he could face Voldemort and fight against him as one on par or above him. He desparately wanted for this war between good and evil to end. But he also knew that it was not possible until either he or Voldemort, killed the other. It was destined to be so, according to the prophecy made before Harry's birth.  
  
Voldemort didn't know the complete contents of the prophecy and that had been his undoing when he had tried to kill Harry as a baby. But Dumbledore, on the other hand, had told Harry everything after Sirius' death. However, knowing the secret, that connected Voldemort to him and vice versa, with Voldemort being partly in the dark about the same was, according to Harry, not a thing to be very proud of.  
  
As Harry thought about all these things (he was sitting up on his bed), he caught his breath and calmed down a little. Maybe it was the thought of Dumbledore being on their side – the side of good. Harry knew that Dumbledore would never let anything bad happen to him, if he had the chance. All these thoughts calmed Harry down. However, despite his calmed fears, he knew that he could sleep no more that night.  
  
The repaired alarm clock on Harry's bedstead showed the time to be four in the morning and Harry knew from the experiences of the past few days that it was no good trying to go back to sleep. So he got up and went down to the bathroom to take a shower. He felt that the cold water running down his body would help him forget all those dreams that he'd been having.  
  
As Harry walked down the landing to the bathroon, he was forced to pass by Dudley's room. Harry huad to endure listening to his cousin's massive snores. He tiptoed past the rooms to the bathroom, holding his breath and trying in every way possible, not to disturb the Dursleys. Harry preferred the Dursleys asleep because in their woken state, they were bound to shoot nasty glances at Harry, or say unkind or cruel things to him.  
  
As Harry stood in the shower, cold water running down his body, he wondered how it is to live a normal life. Then he laughed at that thought as he realized that there was no such thing as 'normal' in his life and that it would possibly be so as long as he lived. Harry believed that if it hadn't been for his friendship with Ron and Hermione, he would have become mad ages ago. What with a murderous maniac after him, he didn't have anything in his life except for his friendship with Ron and Hermione without the fear of death hanging over his head. That is why his friendship was the only thing that he liked about his life. But he knew that for his friends to be safe, he would have to break his friendship with them. He didn't like the prospect and felt a pang of guilt in his chest everytime he thought about it but he believed that it was for the best.  
  
Harry suddenly realized that neither Ron nor Hermione had written to him since the last week. They had been particularly careful about writing to Harry everyday, presumably in the aftermath of Sirius' death. Harry had never bothered replying to their letters. If he wanted to get away from them, that would definitely be a start. Still, they had never stopped writing to him till last Saturday. The letters had abruptly stopped at that time. Harry often wondered why and if both of his friends were alright. But something told him that their silence was either due to the fact that he had kept quiet all through or that something that they had mentioned in their last letters had come through. In his last letter, Ron had written:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Hope you are alright and hanging on with the Muggles. Don't worry. Dad has asked Dumbledore about getting you out of there and we will fetch you as soon as he tells us we can. Till then, hang on there mate.  
  
You know, I have finally asked Hermione if she wanted to go out with me. She agreed. Do you believe it? Your best friends are going out on a date! I have decided to Floo to her place and pick her up. I think I will take her to a Quidditch game in London and then we can go have dinner at a wizard restaurant I know of in Diagon Alley. Do you think she will like it mate?  
  
Hang in there Harry. I will be writing to you soon.  
  
Bye.  
  
Ron.  
  
Harry was always amused by the way Ron began his letters. The opening lines were always the same with assurances about taking him away from the Dursleys as soon as possible. He had also not been surprised by Ron asking Hermione out. He had had a crush on her ever since their fourth year and although Ron hadn't said anything, Harry definitely knew that he was attracted to Hermione. Harry was happy for his best friends and hoped that their relationship would work out well. He believed that being together would help them get over his trying-to-break-our-friendship attitude and its aftermath. But Hermione's letter that day had not been very helpful in making Harry believe so. She clearly wasn't enthusiastic as she had written:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Hope you are alright. I know it must be difficult for you to live with your aunt and uncle, but you know Dumbledore thinks it is for the best. I hope you understand.  
  
I don't know if Ron told you, but he asked me out for a date tonight. He tells it is something special that he has in mind but I just don't think that something that Ron thinks special will be good news. I mean the only things he thinks special are Quidditch, money and joke shop material. I hope our date has nothing to with any of those. Really speaking, I don't fancy going out with Ron. I mean it is nothing against him, but I just don't think that both of us are cut out for each other. In fact, it is more like the fact there cant possibly be two persons who are so opposite to each other. Still, I hope I am wrong. Maybe I have just evaluated him differently than was required.  
  
Harry, I want you to know that I am incredibly worried about you. You have not been replying to any of my letters and I have heard from Ron that you have given him the silent treatment as well. I hope that nothing is wrong. Harry, please reply to this letter soon or I think I will have to send you a Howler and knock some sense into you.  
  
Love, Hermione.  
  
Harry was much amused by Hermione's letter. Poor Hermione! She wouldn't have enjoyed Saturday. Harry knew that she hated flying and that she had never flown in the air since their third year when they had rescued Sirius on a Hippogriff. And add to that the fact that Ron was going to take her to a Quidditch game. Well, the less said the better, he thought.  
  
Harry had thought about writing to Ron and getting him to cancel the Quidditch match and take Hermione to see a movie or a play instead. But he knew that was no good. The letter had come in the afternoon and it would be evening before Ron would get his letter. Harry sincerely hoped that Hermione would not mind what Ron had planned for them. After all, he was really excited about the date.  
  
Since it had been a week since he had heard from both of them, Harry believed that they really had a good time and had decided to get together. After all, there is no time better than the holidays to enjoy being with your girlfriend or boyfriend. Not that Harry knew really for he never had a girlfriend. The closest he came to having a girlfriend was being with Cho Chang last year but well, that had ended up in nothing short of disaster for him.  
  
Harry stood in the shower for a full thirty minutes as he tried to sort out his thought process. By the time he turned off the shower and went back to his room, it was a quarter to five – about two hours before any of the Dursleys decided to wake up. Harry decided to read one of his school books in order to while away his time, but after a few minutes of doing so, he decided that wasn't working.  
  
What should I do? He thought to himself. He still had five hours before he could go to work. Yes, he had taken a summer job this year to distract him and keep him busy. He was working in a local ice-cream parlour. He did not think that was a bad job. The owner treated him well and he got a good salary, at least he thought so. The job occupied about twelve hours of his time daily and he was glad for it.  
  
Finally Harry decided to go outside for a run in the morning. First light was just starting to creep in from the east and he thought it would be a good time to go for a run, without attracting the notice of the snobby residents of Little Whinging.  
  
Harry returned to the house after the run only to find that the Dursleys had woken up and were having breakfast. They saw him but didn't make an attempt to notice him. Harry, too, did not try to strike up a conversation. He was well used to this silent treatment that he got from them. At least, they were being civil to him, no doubt due to the threat delivered to him by the members of the Order at the beginning of the holidays.  
  
Harry showered quickly and went down to have breakfast. He grabbed a quick bite and with a polite 'I'm off to work' to his aunt and uncle, he walked off to the ice-cream parlour. He had a good day at work. There was a big crowd around and that meant that he was always pre-occupied with something or the other and had little time to think about anything else.  
  
Harry remembered that it was his birthday the next day and he decided to take the day off from work and celebrate it. Okay, the Dursleys wouldn't notice and he would have to spend the day pretty much alone, but Harry decide to do so anyway. He could go watch a movie, and then he could have a nice dinner by himself afterwards. So he asked Mr Rickman, the ice-cream parlour owner, whether he could have the day off. He complied to his request on hearing that it was his birthday and Harry was left with the prospect of celebrating his birthday for the first time since he came to Little Whinging.  
  
As Harry walked down to the Dursleys again towards the night, he felt a sudden sense of dread around himself. He did not know why but it seemed to him that someone, who shouldn't be there, was near him. He started walking quickly and breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the confines of Number 4, Privet Drive.  
  
Harry could have sworn that he hadn't imagined the feeling. But he was surprised when it passed just as he entered the house. Maybe, someone was following him, indeed. Over the past one month, Harry had always practised Moody's famous words – 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE'. He was sure that he was being followed around and not just by the members of the Order but by someone else, maybe someone from the Ministry, or worse still, someone from among the Death Eaters.  
  
Harry always had this pricking feeling in his scar nowadays. He knew that it had to do something with the things that Voldemort had been planning in order to capture power. He did not write to anyone about this feeling since he felt that the occurrence was expected now that Voldemort had returned and the news of his return had been accepted by the Ministry. Knowing a bit about Voldemort and having escaped him four times, Harry knew that he must be planning something big in order to get at him. But he was glad at least for the fact that he had not put that plan into motion yet. He felt that his scar would warn him in case anything out of the ordinary happened.  
  
It was actually unnerving. Now that the Ministry had accepted the facts about Voldemort's return, Harry expected something to happen daily. Yet they did not. It seemed that Voldemort had just withdrawn into a shell, since the news of his return broke out in public. Harry felt a bit apprehensive thinking about this for he had expected Voldemort to do something big everyday in order to disturb the uneasy peace that lay over the wizarding world. But that did not happen. Surely the Daily Prophet would have reported if something out of the ordinary had happened. It was all the more obvious since even the cases of Muggle toilets bursting due to some kind of magic were being attributed to Voldemort and his group of Death Eaters. Harry had quite a laugh reading that article (it was probabky the only time he had laughed during the entire holidays) and he couldn't help but wonder if Luna Lovegood's father had taken over the Editor's post of the Daily Prophet as well. Harry was sure that whatever evil Voldemort was upto, bewitching Muggle toilets was certainly not one of his plans.  
  
Harry woke up the next morning, feeling a little dizzy. The dreams had disturbed him yesterday night as well, but he was so tired that he had slept uneasily through them. He dressed and went down to the kitchen to have some breakfast. The Dursleys were already there. Uncle Vernon was sitting with a toast in one hand and the paper in the other. Harry almost laughed seeing that a crumb had lodged itself firmly in the midst of his very bushy moustache.  
  
He must have noticed at Harry looking at him in such a bemused expression, since he bellowed, "What are you looking at, boy? Don't you have business to mind?"  
  
Harry sat down quickly. He did not want to start his birthday with a confrontation with someone, even if that someone was one of the Dursleys. He quickly gobbled down his breakfast while thinking that at least he got proper food this summer. Evidently, Dudley had lost quite a bit of weight (though he still looked like a over-sized hippo than a fully-grown elephant) and his school nurse believed that that much weight loss was sufficient to be going on with. So, Aunt Petunia had gone back to her argument of feeding Dudley up in order to prepare Dudley for the upcoming National Junior Boxing Championships and they had gone back to normal food, at least for the present.  
  
After his breakfast, Harry uttered his usual, 'Going off to work' excuse and ran out of the house. He had not been foolish enough to tell the Dursleys that he had taken the day off. He decided to go to Mrs Figg's house and meet her. Since she was a Squib, Harry could at least talk to her about the magical world.  
  
But on reaching her house, Harry found that Mrs Figg was not at home. He wondered where she was but could find no answer to his question. So he decided to go to the movies as he had planned. They were showing 'The Lord of the Rings : The Return of the King' and having seen the first two movies last year in London, Harry felt that he could, might as well pay a visit to the third installment. As it was, he had found the films wonderful.  
  
So he began walking back in the direction of the theatre, which meant that he had to pass through in front of the Dursleys' house. He was quite careful while passing by. He didn't want the Dursleys to catch him like that.  
  
As Harry rounded the corner down the next block, Dudley and his minions came into view. Dudley's gang had been worse than usual. They had taken to vandalising Little Whinging during the day as well. Although the parents thought that their children were perfect little gentlemen, Harry knew otherwise. He had seen the gang yesterday mugging a young man who was obviously strange to those parts. The weirdest part was that Dudley and his gang were never caught red-handed by anyone which meant that there was no proof that they had done something. (Not that it would matter really, the Dursleys usually turned a deaf ear to all the complaints against their 'Ickle Dudders')  
  
But today, it was not Dudley's gang that caught Harry's attention. It was the person who was standing in their midst. The gang had obviously surrounded the woman with the intention of harassing her. She looked vaguely familiar to Harry, who was staring at the group from across the block. She was obviously angry, since she was shouting at Dudley's gang, who were just laughing at her.  
  
Harry walked slowly towards the small crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of who the woman was. He was shocked when he saw her clearly.  
  
Harry gasped as he recognized her. There was still a gap of about half a block between them, but there was no mistaking who she was.  
  
'No, it cannot be. She cannot be here. This isn't real,' Harry muttered to himself.  
  
But there she was, standing and looking threateningly at Dudley's gang. A look of steely determination was on her face. But Harry still could not understand how she was there.  
  
At that moment, she noticed Harry and said, "Hi, Harry! How are you?"  
  
Harry swallowed. No doubt it was her. But his mind were full of questions. How could she be here? How could she be here, in Little Whinging? 


	2. The Birthday and Afterwards

**Chapter Two**

**The Birthday & Afterwards**

"Hermione!" Harry said breathlessly.

She nodded. "And who exactly were you expecting if not me?" she asked him playfully.

Harry had almost forgotten about the presence of Dudley's gang there. He was brought back out of his stupor into reality when Dudley asked him, "You know her?"

Harry nodded. "She goes to school with me. You know what I am talking about," he replied, trying to put on his most cheerful voice.

Dudley gasped. He obviously knew what Harry was talking about. He realized that the girl was a witch. He didn't want to annoy her so much so that she would turn him into a pig and so, he let out a whimper and took off down the street. His gang looked confused at seeing their ringleader take off like that; they just stared foolishly at Harry and then at Hermione. Deciding that something must be terribly wrong to have scared Dudley, they too took off after him, calling out 'Wait, Big D' at the top of their voices.

Harry started laughing and so did Hermione. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had laughed like that. They watched as Dudley and his cronies took a left turn down the street and disappeared out of sight.

After that, an awkward silence followed as Harry tried to sort out his thoughts. He obviously loved Ron and Hermione as his best friends and that is why he had decided to separate himself from them. That is why he had not written them any letters in reply to their missives. But here he was, standing with Hermione right in front of him, wanting to greet her and talk to her like the old times but refraining from doing so, so that he could stick to his resolve.

At long last, Hermione said, "Harry, are you just going to stand there and stare into the ground or are you going to ask me what I am doing here?"

Those words were enough to initiate Harry's response. Words began tumbling out of his mouth as he asked, "Hermione, what are you doing here? Where is Ron? Why are you here in Little Whinging? Is everything okay?"

Hermione laughed at this. She said softly, "Calm down, Harry. Calm down. Let me catch a breath first."

She smiled at him as she said this and Harry thought that she looked quite pretty. She was wearing blue jeans and a pink coloured sleeveless top over it. Her hair was less messier than usual, probably because she had had it cut to about three inches below shoulder length. She had, in fact, tied it in a ponytail. Harry took in her sight. She had obviously matured. She was still slender and seemed to have developed all the right curves. She had grown taller too. Harry was marvelling at how much she had changed in one month before her next words brought him back to daylight.

"Harry, are you listening?" she asked as she walked towards him.

"Uh-huh," Harry grunted.

"I will take that as a 'no'."

"So what are you doing here?"

Hermione was now by his side and she reached out to him and hugged him tightly. She let go of him then and said rolling her eyes, "I happen to remember that today's is the sixteenth birthday of my best friend and so, I came by to wish him a happy birthday. Isn't that reason enough?"

Harry was rather flattered by this remark. He blushed as he realized that Hermione had come over only for his birthday. But he hid his happiness. He knew he had to be strong. He could not go on with their friendship, since it was bound to hurt her and Ron in some way or the other.

She didn't seem to have noticed his discomfort in hiding his feelings. She reached over to him, kissed him on the cheek lightly and hugging him once again said, "Happy Birthday, Harry."

He stared at her, his emerald green eyes boring into the back of her head, "I think you should go. You are not safe here, alone with me."

She looked at him once and seemed to understand. Just like Hermione, he thought, seems to know everything everytime.

She spoke to him softly, "Harry, could we go somewhere less conspicuous. I want to talk to you. How about the ice-cream parlour over there?"

She pointed out to the ice-cream parlour up the street. It was the same one in which Harry had started working.

Harry nodded at her, meaning that he accepted her suggestion. He led her up to the parlour. As they entered, one of his colleagues, Mark, yelled out to him, "Hey, Harry! What's going on? Heard today is your birthday. Happy Birthday, mate!" He held out his hand to Harry who took it and grinned at him. Mark's eyes then landed on Hermione and he gave a low whistle. "And who is this pretty friend of yours? Don't tell me you already have a girlfriend."

Hermione blushed at this, but Harry shook his head and said, "Actually, she is just a friend, from school."

Mark nodded but he didn't seem too convinced. He however didn't say anything and asked simply, "So, what would you guys want to have?"

A minute later, Harry and Hermione were sitting together in a booth, concentrating on their ice-creams. In fact, Harry was the only one concentrating on the ice-cream. Hermione was looking closely at him, her face etched in concern.

Hermione asked him, "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry nodded. He still didn't want to speak anything, knowing that once he started getting friendly, it would be too difficult to stop.

Hermione peered at him once again and said, "Of course, you aren't."

"What do you mean?" He lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes, trying to challenge her to saying what she meant.

However, she didn't back down either and merely said in a low and friendly tone, "You feel you are responsible for Sirius' death. No, wait …let me finish first," she lifted up her right hand as Harry opened his mouth to speak something. "You feel that your friendship with Ron and me is going to endanger us and so, you have decided to break our friendship, not caring if we wanted to do it or not. That is why you haven't been replying to our letters. That is why we have not heard of you these entire vacation. Isn't this the truth?"

She said all these things very carefully and clearly by stressing all the right parts. It seemed to Harry that she had rehearsed this speech many times earlier. 'Just like Hermione,' Harry thought, 'Just like the one to tackle everything head on'

He felt like cowering under her piercing gaze, which reminded him so often of the hawkish way in which Professor McGonagall looked at troublemakers. But knowing that he mustn't give the feeling away, he merely replied, "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Of course you do, Harry Potter. You know very well what I am talking about."

"I don't know what we are talking about here and why."

"We are talking about Sirius. We are talking about the fact that you are not responsible for his death. And we are talking about all this because it is important for you to realize that you have never been responsible for hurting anyone. It is important for you to realize it so that you don't hurt anyone else, for example, Ron and me. You don't understand Harry but you are withdrawing into a shell and that is not a good way to live your life. If you think you are keeping us safe by withdrawing, you are wrong. It is your indifferent, confused and unfriendly behaviour that is hurting us. It is this that has disappointed us."

"Don't tell me how to live my life. I-" Harry began hotly.

"I am not telling you how to live your life. I am not trying to direct you or command you. I am trying to help you. You don't realize this Harry but do you know how much you have hurt Ron and me by not replying to our letters. Here we are writing everyday like mad, hoping to get your response and you choose not to write. And we are just left wondering whether those relatives of you have kept you alive or dead? And you think that you are doing the right thing?" As she was saying this, the colour rose in Hermione's cheeks and she looked positively livid.

Just as she said this, Mark came over and said, "So what are you two quarrelling about?"

Harry said, "Please Mark, we are not quarrelling. Why don't you go back and do some work. I believe those boys over there are asking for something."

As Mark departed to the other booth, Hermione asked, "So, how do you know him?"

"I have taken a summer job here in this ice-cream parlour. The Dursleys don't mind since the Order warned them last year and I can keep busy by doing this," Harry replied dully.

Hermione nodded in understanding. She reached over and took Harry's hand in her own. She squeezed his hand reassuringly and said, "Harry, you have to come out of your self-imposed shell. You have to live life as you once did. You have to go out there without fear or apprehension. That is what you need to do. That is why you need to get over Sirius' death."

"And just who are you to tell me what I need in my life?" Harry spoke coldly and as he said this, a cold light flashed in his eyes. Hermione was suddenly scared. It was as if someone else was sitting before her and not Harry.

But she didn't get bogged down. She knew she must persist, for the good of her best friend, for the good of everyone who knew him and looked up to him.

"I am your friend, Harry and I am trying to help you," she said.

Harry looked at her. He could see that she was a bit scared at what he had said. He was sure that he had not intended to speak what he had spoken. 'Voldemort! It must have ben him,' he thought angrily.

His features softened once more as he spoke, "Sorry, Hermione. It's just that I don't feel like talking about this now. I don't think I am ready yet."

"All right, Harry. If you want that, I suppose it's your own decision. But I want you to know that if you ever feel the need to talk to you, I will be there for you, so will Ron and Dumbledore and Lupin. You don't know Harry but there are so many people around who care for you. You just have to give them a chance to show it"

Harry nodded at what she said. He understood. He felt his resolve of breaking the trio evaporate into thin air. He decided to play the part of the procrastinator and postpone it for sometime later. He decided to just have a good time on his birthday with his friends.

Another period of awkward silence followed in between them. Harry was rather surprised at this. For one, he had never had any problem talking to Hermione, or to Ron for that matter. In fact, it was always Ron and Hermione who sometimes, felt awkward around each other. This was a new phenomenon and Harry was not sure if he liked it.

So, in a bid to break the silence, he asked her, "So where is Ron?"

Not for the first time since Hermione had met him that morning, she looked worried. She merely shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know. He was supposed to come here by Floo powder. We had decided to be here by ten. But I don't know. Do you think he is all right?"

"Knowing Ron and his family, I daresay he will be all right. Anyway if he is travelling by Floo powder, he should be all right. I mean he has used it many times before, hasn't he? He has even been in Little Whinging once-" he broke off suddenly and groaned as he remembered the time when the Weasleys had travelled to the house by Floo powder.

Hermione looked surprised, "What's the matter, Harry? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, it is. At least, I hope so. Come quickly. We have to rush. No time to explain," he grabbed her hand and made his way to the counter where Mark was. Harry was about to pay him but Mark stopped him.

"Go on, mate. Just consider it a birthday gift."

"Thanks mate," Harry smiled at him and taking Hermione hand, he took her out and started walking quickly towards Privet Drive.

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione was asking, but Harry just seemed to ignore her. He continued to lead her quickly to Number 4. When they reached there, Harry told Hermione to stand there quietly while he went inside and checked things out.

He went inside the house on tiptoe, careful not to let Aunt Petunia know that he was there. He went quietly to the living room and surveyed the fireplace. There was obviously no sign of anything out of the ordinary having happened, so he heaved a sigh of relief. Evidently, Ron hadn't chosen to come by their fireplace. He went back outside and nearly dropped down dead in shock when he saw Aunt Petunia leaning over the fence and talking to no one other than-

"Hermione!" Harry muttered to himself. "Now what am I going to do to get her away from the gossip?"

Fortunately, Harry did not have to worry about that as Hermione politely detached herself from the conversation and made her way towards the direction of Wisteria Walk. Harry was thankful that she was doing so. It would be a few steps lesser that way.

After successfully avoiding his aunt, Harry rejoined Hermione about half a block down. She was shaking her head and muttering something to herself. Harry came up from behind and asked her, "What's the matter?"

She looked up at him and asked, "That your aunt?"

Harry nodded. She said, "Well, I talked to her for about one minute and it took me half that much time to realize how horrid she is."

"What do you mean?"

"She started asking me about who I was and what I am doing here and to whom I am related and all those things of that sort. She was about to introduce me to some Dudders, I think that would be your cousin, (Harry nodded) so that I could enjoy some quality company during the time that I am in Little Whinging," Hermione shuddered at the very thought of spending time with Dudley. She was already hacked off at him for the way his gang had tried to harass her when she had asked him directions for Number 4, Privet Drive.

Harry grinned at her reaction and said, "Glad to see that you met my relatives and found them interesting."

Hermione did not say anything but gave a snort. Harry burst into laughter just as Mrs Figg's house came into view. Hermione followed suit and soon they were bursting with laughter. They had to catch hold of the fence in order to prevent themselves from falling to the ground and rolling to the ground.

Someone inside appeared to have heard their laughter as they realized that the door to the house opened and a shadow fell across the ground.

"Harry! Hermione! Thank God I found you at last," came Ron's voice.

They looked up to see Ron standing in the drive of Mrs Figg's house, grinning at them.

"So, Ron," Harry asked, "A little late, are we?"

Ron looked sheepishly at him and said, "I got kinda caught up with Mrs Figg. She insisted on hearing everything that was going on."

"What does that-" Harry started but he interrupted himself. "Wait, how do you know her?"

"Well, you see she was a friend of my mother's," came Ron's reply. "She insisted on hearing everything that was going on with her. In fact, she was laughing to the fact about how Mum reacts to Fred and George's antics when I heard your laughter and came out."

Harry beamed at him; evidently all the thoughts that he had harboured of breaking the famous trio had been evaporated and passed into the next century.

They stood there, and Harry and Ron started talking about Quidditch. Evidently, the Chudley Cannons (Ron's favourite Quidditch team) had been taken over by some very rich wizard businessman from Russia and they had made quite a few signings. With the new players, they were going great guns and were on top of the Quidditch League. Ron was even more delighted to tell him that the support for the Tornadoes had halved overnight and most of the bookies now believed that the Cannons were the favourites to win the League for that year.

[A/N: In case you just wondered, yes, the take on the Cannons is inspired by Roman Abromovich's takeover of the English football club, Chelsea.]

Ron went on, ranting about the prospects of the Cannons and Harry found his attention wavering. As much as he loved to play Quidditch, Harry did not have Ron's extensive knowledge about the different Quidditch teams of England (being in the Muggle world did not help him) and so, he had much more difficulty in keeping up with who was who and what was what in the National Quidditch League of England.

Just as Harry was about to stop Ron, a voice came from inside the house, "Ron, are you going to just bore them off there or are you going to stay out there? I have to wish Harry a happy birthday, you see."

Harry thanked his stars that Mrs Figg interrupted their one-track conversation. He went inside and as he entered the house, his stomach did a back-flip. Enchanted balloons were hanging from the walls. Over the mantlepiece, he saw a large photograph of his and over that, it was written 'Happy Birthday, Harry.'

In Mrs Figg's living room, there were people crowded all around. Harry spotted Mrs Weasley alongwith Fred and George. There was also Remus Lupin and Tonks. Ginny was there and her boyfriend, Dean Thomas was there at her side. Neville was there as well. Harry noticed Ron clench his fist as he looked in Ginny's direction. Clearly, he was still not happy about her relationship with Dean. Hagrid occupied half of the room by himself and that made the place more crowded than it could possibly be. As Harry entered, flanked on both sides by Ron and Hermione, they yelled out loudly, "Surprise!"

Harry walked into a roomful of hugs as everyone wished him a happy birthday and gave him presents, and a lot of them at that. Soon, he was opening presents at everyone's behest. Harry never had so many presents in his life. Ordinarily, his birthday consisted of a solitude and a few presents from his friends. But today, for the first time in his life, he was having a proper birthday.

There was a huge cake that had been baked by Mrs Weasley herself.

When he cut the cake, Hermione told him, "Make a wish, Harry."

Harry made his wish and blew out all the candles in one go. He cut the cake and with that, the party began in earnest. There was music and dance. Evidently, the party had been very well-planned.

And yes, there was food. Lots of it. Evidently, Mrs Weasley had been camping out at her friend's place since last night in order to help them prepare for the party. Harry looked at Mrs Figg and noticed that she looked happier than he had ever seen her (which was only about four or five dozen times) Everyone looked quite merry. In fact, the only people, Harry noticed, who were evidently feeling awkward were Ron and Hermione. Harry followed them for some time and he saw that they were walking around the room, talking cheerfully to everyone but always conveniently avoiding each other. Harry wondered what was with those two.

Fred and George were upto their usual antics. They had evidently made something called the Ghost Line which made anyone walking over it take up the appearance of a ghost for a minute. Neville was their favourite target, as he went about looking straight ahead. After about half an hour when they had succeeded in turning almost everyone into a ghost and had been threatened by their mother, they stopped and began using some other tricks.

Ignoring these antics, Harry walked over to where Ginny was standing. Dean was now engaged in a conversation with Lupin nearby. He greeted Ginny and she wished him a happy birthday.

He asked her, "What's the matter with Ron?"

Ginny smiled and said, "Oh, he is just angry that I brought Dean along to the party. Honestly, everyone has accepted that he is my boyfriend but dear old Ronald just refuses to acknowledge that fact."

Harry listened to her but this was not the answer he was looking for. He shook his head and said, "No, not about that. I am asking about what's up with Ron and Hermione?"

A look of comprehension dawned on Ginny's face. She said, "I don't know. I mean, ever since Ron came back from their date, he has been keeping to himself. I think the only time they communicated after that was when we started planning for the party. I think their date did not go too well."

Harry understood. That would certainly explain a lot of things. He decided to just let the issue rest for the moment. 'After all,' he thought, 'Ron and Hermione don't need by help in this. They can sort everything out themselves.'

"So," he asked Ginny. "What is the theory of this noon-time party?"

Ginny giggled. "That? You have to give credit to Mum. When she asked him about whether we could have you over today, Dumbledore told her that we had to wait for another day. But then, she decided that we had to celebrate your birthday under any condition. Apparently, Dumbledore told her that the only way she could celebrate the birthday with you was to through you a noon-time party and that is what she went about doing."

"So you mean that all this has been arranged by Mrs Weasley," Harry asked her, an incredulous look on his face.

Ginny nodded, "With some help from Mrs Figg of course."

"Wow," Harry exclaimed. "Now I know from where Fred and George got the genes to be what they are."

Ginny laughed at this remark. The party went on smoothly till about four in the afternoon. It was at that time that the doorbell rang. They were in the middle of dancing to some tunes played on the Wizarding Wireless Network that Mrs Figg had. Harry had noticed it for the first time. He was dancing with Hermione, who was equally bad on the floor – she was still avoiding Ron and vice versa.

They were still dancing when the door to the living room opened once again and Mrs Figg came in, followed by Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked grave. There was no twinkle in his sky-blue eyes and he was seemingly very tense. Harry took it as a bad sign. Evidently, something had happened that had unnerved him and Harry thought that the prospect was too scary for words.

As Dumbledore entered, everyone stopped in their tracks. He surveyed the room and then motioned to Hagrid, Lupin, Tonks and Mrs Weasley. As they came near, he whispered something to them. 'That is odd,' thought Harry. He had never seen Dumbledore being so secretive.

After the discussion had taken place, Dumbledore disappeared through the door alongwith Hagrid. Mrs Weasley, meanwhile, came back to the rest of them and said, "Harry, I am sorry, but we have to go. Albus told us to."

She cleared her throat loudly and announced, "Everyone except Harry, Hermione and Arabella here have to make way for Headquarters by using a Portkey. Harry, Hermione, dears, you have to stay here with Arabella. You can just go back to your uncle's place and collect all your luggage. Tell them that you are going away for the summer and come back here. Albus will tell you what to do next. Hermione, you are also to stay here. Do not leave the house, especially you, Hermione. Am I understood?"

She glared at all the occupants of the room as if daring anyone to ask a question. Everyone nodded. Even Fred and George were unexpectedly compliant. It seemed that they had realized the urgency of the situation.

"Harry, I think you should go now. Arabella, if he does not come within an hour, inform us immediately. You can do so, now that you have a Floo connection," Lupin said.

Mrs Figg nodded. Harry said goodbye and ran off to his house. He had thought about this day every day of his holidays. He always wanted to be free from the life at Privet Drive and now, he was sure that he was to go away until the next summer. He knew he should be happy, but something forbade him. Something gave him a strange sense of foreboding and apprehension. He was quite wary as he made his way to his uncle's house. He knew something had happened, something big.

It was afternoon still and so, the house was empty except for his aunt. Harry packed his things up and told his aunt that he was going away for the rest of the holidays. She did not seemed to mind in the least.

It was about fory-five minutes after he had originally left Mrs Figg's house that Harry returned there. He saw that the Weasleys had gone, alongwith Dean, Neville, Lupin and Tonks to 12, Grimmauld Place, the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione was sitting there alone in the living room, her head in her hands. She was visibly shaking from fear. Meanwhile, Harry could hear Mrs Figg working in the kitchen.

They waited there alone for what seemed like hours. Around eight, Mrs Figg asked them to have dinner. Inspite of the sense of dread, Harry felt hungry. So, he got up with Hermione and had their dinner with Mrs Figg. After that they went back to waiting for the next instructions.

It was past midnight now, and Hermione was sleeping quietly with her head on Harry's shoulder. Mrs Figg was sitting across from them, pretending to read a magazine. But she was clearly waiting for some sign, some indication of what was happening and what would happen next.

Suddenly the doorbell rang and Mrs Figg sprang to life. She went to the door and let Professor Dumbledore in. Hermione was still asleep and Harry woke her up gently. She sat up and began rubbing her eyes.

"Hermione, I think it is time for us to leave," Harry told her softly.

She nodded. Just then, Professor Dumbledore came into the living room. He asked Harry, "Have you got your luggage?"

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore continued, "Very well, we will be leaving in five minutes."

"But Professor, where are we going?" Hermione asked him.

"You'll see. I am afraid I cannot say anymore just now," Dumbledore replied. Harry could have sworn that Dumbledore seemed weary and sad.

Just then, Harry heard an owl come through and it handed over a letter to him. He looked at Dumbledore with raised eyebrows. Sirius, Ron and Hermione had been the only person who corresponded with him. Dumbledore motioned him to take the letter. He was about to open it when he help up his hand and said, "Later, Harry."

After a couple of minutes, Dumbledore performed the levitating charm on Harry's trunk and took it in his hand. He did the same for Harry's Firebolt and Hedwig's cage. They were both held by Harry. (Hedwig had gone off to hunt for the night.)

Dumbledore motioned them to gather near the Portkey. It was a simple flower vase that was broken near the base. They grasped the vase together. Dumbledore was counting "Three…Two…One…Here we go."

Harry felt the now familiar jerk behind his navel and he soon found himself on the floor of a well-kept house. Hermione looked around and suddenly, she turned to Dumbledore and asked, "Professor, why have you brought us to my home?"

Harry understood now. So this was where Hermione lived. But Dumbledore did not seem to notice Harry's curious glances at the moment. He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and said softly, "Miss Granger, I am afraid your parents have met with an accident. And I mean a 'Death Eater' accident."

Hermione sank down to the floor. Harry felt his heart skip a beat. He was shocked and stunned. Suddenly, he remembered his wish while cutting the cake. He wished with all his heart now that he had not wished for what he did.

Hermione seemed to regain a bit of her composure and she asked with tears in her eyes, "Are they okay? Are my parents okay?"

_What You Can Expect Next: _

_ What is the condition of Hermione's parents? What did Harry wish? What exactly happened with the Death Eaters? What is Harry going to do for the rest of the summer? All the answers and more in the next chapter : Chapter 3 – With Hermione._

_Author's Note:_

_Thanks for the reviews to Chapter 1. Especially to Ebony River, thanks for the honestly done review. This chapter has far more dialogues. Hopefully you will like it better._

_I am going to be away for the next seven days. I promise that I will update the story with two more chapters by June 17th. After that, it will be like 2-3 chapters a week. Thanks for the reviews and keep them coming. You don't know the encouragement they provide to someone like me who is writing his first fan fiction._


	3. With Hermione

**Chapter Three**

**With Hermione**

"Are they okay? Are my parents okay?" Hermione repeated her question to Dumbledore, who wore the same sad and tired look that he had on his countenance when he informed Mr and Mrs Diggory of their son's death.

"Why are you not saying anything? I am asking you if my parents are okay?" Hermione reiterated her question once again and this time, Harry felt her getting angry at Dumbledore.

Finally, Dumbledore turned around, went to a nearby window and looking out, said, "No, they are not. But they will be."

Harry did not get what Dumbledore meant. By the looks of it, neither did Hermione.

"Professor, what does that mean?" Harry asked him.

"What this means is that Miss Granger's parents are alive, but they are still in a very critical condition," Dumbledore replied.

Hermione started sobbing at this. Harry rushed over to her and put his arms around her. She wouldn't have to go through this ordeal alone. However, she appeared to regain her composure a bit later.

She told Dumbledore, "I want to see them."

Dumbledore nodded. He said, "Very well. Please follow me now. Your parents are admitted to the nearby Muggle hospital. We reckoned that we had to keep them away from the magical world as much as possible."

Harry and Hermione left the house behind Dumbledore. Just before they left the house, Dumbledore changed his attire. He looked like an overgrown hippy from the 1960s. Harry thought he looked really odd dressed in Muggle clothes. Honestly, if the situation hadn't been so serious, he'd have laughed out aloud. But with the situation that they were in, Harry did not react to this change of appearance.

The hospital was just a couple of blocks away from Hermione's home. They went upto the Intensive Care Unit where her parents were battling for their life. Hermione was allowed to enter the room but Harry could only watch from the outside. What he saw made his heart leap into his mouth. Hermione's parents were clearly badly injured. They were heavily bandaged up and were clearly bleeding in many places.

After watching them for some  time, Harry went back and sat down beside Dumbledore in the waiting area. Hermione stayed with her parents for about two to three hours. Harry got up every fifteen minutes and checked on her from outside. He could only see her sitting beside them and looking at them with a lost expression on her face.

Some time later, Harry saw Remus Lupin come into the waiting area. He approached the seats where Harry and Dumbledore were seated and began talking to Dumbledore in low voices. Harry could not hear what they were talking about, but whatever it was, it did seem to be extremely important.

After they had their talk, Dumbledore and Lupin walked over from the corner where they had been standing and came up to Harry and Hermione. Lupin shook Harry's hand and hugged Hermione. Harry saw her burying her face in Lupin's shoulders as she began to cry again.

Finally, Dumbledore broke the silence and said, "I think that it is advisable for us to leave the hospital now. Remus will be here and Nymphadora Tonks will be here soon. They will attend to Miss Granger's parents here and of course, if they need you, you will be available at your home."

Hermione didn't take in this suggestion very well. She protested, "They are my parents. They are lying their injured, in a critical state. How can you expect me to leave them like that?"

"Miss Granger," began Dumbledore, "I have no illusion that you are very much shocked and pained at what has happened. I am also aware that no one among us has the right to be here at this moment than you. But you need to understand that you need some rest, as does Harry here. And secondly and more importantly, you need to realize that our objective at this moment is to keep your parents safe and I don't think that with you two here, that objective can be fulfilled."

Hermione nodded. She got up and went to take a last look at her parents before going home. She came back about ten minutes later. She and Harry then, made their way to her house alongwith Dumbledore.

They entered the house and sat themselves down in the living room. Harry was sitting there quietly staring into the floor. Hermione sat down beside him and had taken her head in her hands. Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "I would ordinarily have asked both of you to go to bed, but taking into consideration the events of the past twelve hours, I am willing to anwer your questions first." After a short pause, he added, "And I daresay there will be many."

Neither Hermione nor Harry spoke during the silence that followed. Harry kept quiet because he did not know whether he should intefere in this matter. On the other hand, Hermione kept quiet because she simply did not know where to begin.

Finally, she put all her queries into one question as she said, "Professor, tell me everything about the attack."

Harry was considerably startled by this statement. It was more like a command than a request. It was clearly, a case of Hermione, exercising her right to the requested information. Harry also noted the use of 'me' instead of 'us'. He took this as a sign of her wanting to talk to Dumbledore alone. So, he started to get up. However, Dumbledore motioned him to remain seated.

"Miss Granger," he began, "What I am about to say will be difficult for you to accept. However, since you have asked me this question and I have chosen to answer it, I must give you the truth. For I don not believe and have never done so since I recognized good and evil, in the argument that the truth should be screened and censored in order to reduce the impact it might have on the listener. Truth is dangerous, oh yes, more than any other thing in this world, and so, it must be treated with caution. But with the circumstances that we are currently engaged in, I believe that the truth in general, is most desirable, since any lie will surely result in someone weaving a web of deceit around us.

"The question that you have asked is very complex, because if I were to explain to you everything, I believe we would still be sitting here till tomorrow. Yet, I will give you the relevant information.

"Ever since Harry was born, Lord Voldemort has been trying to kill him. This is because they are connected by a magical bond that is beyond the comprehension of all wizardkind and yet is as concrete as a scratch made on glass, which cannot be removed unless the glass itself is shattered to pieces. But don't ask me about the connection, don't ask me why or how, for that is not for me to answer. Maybe, someday, you will know the answer when the person who has the right to reply does so."

As he said the last part, Dumbledore looked at Harry.

"But what has all this got to do with the enmity between Voldemort and Harry?" Hermione interjected.

"Oh, everything," Dumbledore replied. "I believe that the only reason which motivated this attack was the fact that Lord Voldemort wanted to attack Harry. Not physically, but through the mind. So, he chose to hurt Harry where his weakness lies, in his friends. He chose to hurt your parents so that he could hurt Harry."

"I don't understand-" Hermione began.

But Dumbledore interrupted her by saying, "I think things would be clearer if we heard what Lord Voldemort himself has to say."

"But how?" asked Hermione.

"Harry, I think you can open your letter now," Dumbledore told Harry.

Harry swallowed. In the tense atmosphere, he had forgotten about the letter that lay in his pocket. He retrieved it slowly and saw that on the back of the envelope, there was a seal – in the form of a skeleton and a serpent – the Dark Mark of Lord Voldemort. Harry noticed the seal for the first time and understood how Dumbledore knew whom the letter was from.

He opened the letter, read it once and handed it over to Hermione, who in turn, handed it over to Dumbledore with trembling hands. The letter read:

_Harry Potter,_

_You have just seen a taste of the terror that I, Lord Voldemort, can inflict upon you and your loved ones. You think you are brave and can face me. You think you can escape me. But can you help the ones you love, the ones who you call your 'friends' and their families, escape from me?_

_Treat this as a warning. Today, those Mudbloods were injured, but tomorrow they may die. Serve this as a reminder that none can stand against my power, none, not you, not your friends and not even that Muggle-loving Headmaster of yours._

As he read the letter, Dumbledore let out a false chuckle, "Ah, Tom Riddle! Always so polite!"

"So what does this mean?" Hermione asked Dumbledore.

"A certain incident that occurred about one and a half months ago has forced Lord Voldemort to do some introspection," he replied. "I am, of course, talking of the way five students entered the Department of Mysteries and managed to escape a dozen or so Death Eaters without knowing about the surprise attacks or about the place they were in. This incident forced Lord Voldemort to reason out why Harry Potter has thus far eluded him, even though his plans were ingenious and seemingly foolproof. It gnaws his mind. He has ordered a fresh reign of terror but in his own mind, doubt has begun to take shape. All his thought is bent upon Harry – what happened the night he tried to kill him as a child, how he eluded him so far, what happened in the Atrium, when he tried to possess Harry. All these questions hound him.

"However, he has realized one thing, that Harry has unknown strength in him, which meant that he escaped with his life in scenarios where he should have got nothing but death. After all, how has a boy been able to escape him four times, while most fully-grown powerful wizards he targeted, couldn't escape him even once. And amid his musings, he has, I believe, begun to look at Harry as a formidable enemy. He overestimates you, Harry and I think that is what we should take advantage of."

"But what does this have to do with the attack?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore replied, "During his musings, Lord Voldemort concluded, and I daresay that his conjecture is partly correct, that your friends are your greatest source of strength and motivation. Now that your godfather is dead, he realizes that the only persons whom he could hold for a ransom against you are your friends and their families. That is why the Death Eaters attacked Miss Granger's parents here. Had it not been for your birthday party, even the Weasleys could have been in a similar position."

"What do you mean?" Harry reacted sharply to this revelation.

"This brings us to the actual attack. Miss Granger, your parents were supposed to go to Little Whinging to pick you up, weren't they?" Hermione nodded but said nothing.

Dumbledore, however, continued, "The Death Eaters did not even remotely expect anything like a party being thrown for Harry. They had been watching your family's movements for sometime now and had concluded that the best time to attack you three would be in the evening after your parents came back home. However, that day, your parents arrived early, only to find nine hooded and cloaked figures waiting for them.

"The cover of the Death Eaters had been blown. They were left with two choices. They could either attack your parents now or could go back to their master and face his wrath. They chose the former course and your parents found themselves at the receiving end of the Death Eaters' curses. They were standing there, defenseless, writhing in pain while the cowards were enjoying the pain that they were inflicting."

Harry had never seen Dumbledore use such words before. He was undoubtedly enraged by this attack on the defenseless Grangers. Hermione however, didn't know Dumbledore as well as Harry did and so, she didn't seem to notice. She asked him, her eyes wide with fear, "The Cruciatus Curse?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I believe they intended to do to them what they had done to the Longbottoms years ago. They wanted to use your parents as living reminders of the terror that Lord Voldemort is. They knew Harry would have to react then, somehow or the other."

"But then, how can you say that they are going to be all right?" Hermione asked him. She had started sobbing again when Dumbledore told them of the Death Eaters' intended plans.

"Fortunately," replied Dumbledore, "we received information of the attack within moments. We had been monitoring your home since the last year. As soon as information reached us of the attack, certain members of the Order including myself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, Mungdungus Fletcher and Elephias Dodge confronted the Death Eaters and rescued your parents. They were on the receiving end for about a couple of minutes before we arrived, and I believe we should be thankful for that. A few moments, and who knows what could have happened?"

"But Professor," exclaimed Harry. "Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse on me the year before last and I recollect no other ill after it was removed."

"That is because," Dumbledore slowly replied, "you tried to use your mind to resist it. You see, it is all here in your head. Magic is all about the mind. If you believe you can do something, you will be able to do it. It seems that in the case of your parents, Miss Granger, they accepted the pain and forced their mind to be overcome by it. In all practical respect, they co-operated with the spell which only increased their predicament. As a result, it seems that their mind is still in that stupor that they had imposed upon themselves. That is why their condition is critical. We have got to bring them out of their stupor within the next three days, otherwise I fear there might be irreversible damage."

Hermione gave a sob at this. Harry listened to her and his heart sank. 'What kind of a friend am I? I bring nothing but pain to those who are close to me?' he thought.

Dumbledore seemed to have read his thoughts, since he said, "No Harry. Do not blame yourself for all this. This is not your fault. We are at war here, and I believe these are the first injuries that we have had to suffer in this war."

Hermione nodded. Blinking back her tears, she said, "Yes Harry. There is no point in blaming you. Personally, I don't consider you responsible for any of this. If there is someone responsible, it is Voldemort and I am sure he will pay for all this. Someday, he will." Her eyes flashed angrily as she said this.

She turned to Dumbledore and said, "Sir, but what are we going to do now?"

Dumbledore replied, "I think it is best if Harry stays here with you for the rest of your summer, with your permission, of course. Like I said, we have to make use of the uncertainties that cloud Lord Voldemort's mind. With the state he is in, I don't think he will attack you, Harry, not yet. He is planning something, that we can be sure about, but it isn't something that he will carry out this month, that is for sure. So, we can safely say that anyone who is with you is also safe. That is why, I think that you should stay here Harry."

Both Harry and Hermione nodded. Dumbledore continued, "But there are a few precautions that you must take, Miss Granger. You must not leave the house alone. You must always be accompanied by Harry, wherever you go. When your parents return home, we will review the arrangement and decide upon the next course of action. Till then, this is all we can do. And yes, both of you, you will not leave this house after dark. Wherever you have to go, you must go while it is light. And that includes the hospital."

Both Harry and Hermione understood. They remained silent, signifying that they accepted the arrangements that Dumbledore had suggested.

Then Hermione looked at Dumbledore, her eyes tearful, "Sir, do you think my parents will be okay?"

"I have full faith," Dumbledore replied. "They have almost healed completely in the body. And we are trying our best to heal their mind. We administered a potion earlier in the evening, and by our reckoning they should wake up in two days. But remember this. It is important that they accept this as a part of their memories and go on to live their life as normally as possible. If that does not happen, we can never predict what can occur?"

Hermione nodded. Dumbledore's words gave her some hope. His words were like the ray of light that peeks through behind a storm-cloud just after rains cease to fall down.

Dumbledore looked at both of them kindly and said, "I think both of you should have some rest now. It is five-thirty already and two-three hours of rest would hold you in good stead. You can visit the hospital immediately after you wake and freshen up. But before that, I would advise you to eat something. All this waiting and anxiety, it isn't easy, but you ought to ensure that your body holds up to all this. I can conjure up some food for you, if you like."

"No," said Hermione, getting up. "I think I will fix us something from the kitchen." With that, she went to the kitchen. Harry understood that she wanted to be alone for a while.

After Hermione went, Harry noticed that Dumbledore was looking at him with the same penetrating gaze which he had seen on his Headmaster's countenance a number of times on previous occasions.

At last, Dumbledore looked up and said, "Harry, I think you should tell Miss Granger about the prophecy, she has the right to know especially since all this has happened."

"No," said Harry. "I don't think I will tell her. She will be even more terrified then. And then she'll tell Ron…(he remembered what Dumbledore had said about the Burrow being attacked)…Professor, you said that the Burrow was attacked."

"Yes Harry," replied Dumbledore. "The Death Eaters had originally planned to attack both places at once. But fortunately, they were not successful. The Order members succeeded in thwarting the attack on the Burrow. In the process, six out of the fifteen Death Eaters there were caught. Even here, four out of the nine were caught. I interrogated them myself. That is why I know all that I told you about."

"So they are in Azkaban now?" Harry asked.

"No," Dumbledore replied, "The Ministry is aware of the revolt of the Dementors, so the Death Eaters have been kept in anti-apparition cells in a secret place."

"What's the Ministry going to do with them?"

"I think they can do nothing. Cornelius things that the return of Lord Voldemort does not quite mean what his power meant once but I believe he is wrong. This time, Lord Voldemort is even more powerful than before since he has become wiser with his earlier experiences. He had lots of time in hiding, oh yes, he analysed all he'd done and drew out new plans. Although he still hasn't got the greatest prize, that is, you, he still is a very potent force. Unfortunately, Cornelius and I still do not see eye to eye in this matter. The Ministry is still not preparing for Lord Voldemort's assault as it should be."

Dumbledore shook his head out of dejection as he said this. Harry could see why he was disappointed. It was indeed, different to fight Lord Voldemort with the backing of the Ministry of Magic rather than fighting as the Order of the Phoenix alone.

Harry sighed and said, (He needed to get this off his chest) – "Professor, what do you think will happen in the future?"

Dumbledore looked at him and said, "We don't know. We can't worry too much about the future, Harry. It is only our time that we should be concerned with. Okay, it is prudent to give your future generation a better life, but that is only possible when your own life improves. That is why I do not think that we should worry about what is waiting for us out there."

"But I feel so small and powerless, and knowing that the fate of the wizarding world lies in my hands makes me feel all the more weak. Just look at what happened to Hermione's parents. I mean I cannot even protect my friends. Then how am I supposed to rid the wizarding world of its greatest menace?" Harry asked.

"I do not know the answer to that, Harry," said Dumbledore. There was pity and sympathy in his eyes as he spoke. "But one thing that I know is that it is all here, in your head. Magic is all about the mind, Harry. You just have to believe in yourself. If you believe in what you do, anything and everything is possible. You just have to sincerely believe and work hard for what achieving what you want.

"Remember Harry, even the smallest person can change the history of the world. And you are not small, neither are you weak. You are the strongest and bravest person I have even known. To survive the things that you had had to go through since your birth and still be who you are, requires great strength, Harry and that is why you are a strong person. Because you make your choices not on the basis of the power you may get but on the basis of what you think is good and what you think is evil. You have often chosen the difficult path and that is why you have become who you are. That is why you have given us a chance to hope that we will be freed from this evil.

"Remember this Harry. You can defeat him, not because the prophecy says so but because you have the strength. You have been given this chance of destroying evil from our world. Yes, evil will re-emerge someday in some other form, but that is not our job to deal with. All we have to decide is what to do with the time given to us. The prophecy was made for you, Harry which means that you are the one who has been given this chance. And know this, Harry, this task would never have been appointed to you if you didn't have the strength."

As he finished speaking, Dumbledore looked kindly at Harry and finally said, "Remember Harry, it is all to do with mind. The first step to gaining strength is to master your thoughts and establish full control over your mind. Believe that you can do this, and I am sure you will win."

With that, Dumbledore got up and patting Harry on the back, made his way towards the door. He put his hand on the doorknob, turned and said, "I will get going now. Remember what I told you. In case you need anything, you can contact Remus or Nymphadora. They are there in the hospital."

He nodded at Harry and then with a swish of his cloak, he was gone, leaving Harry feeling better than he had done for the last twelve hours.

Harry suddenly woke up suddenly. It must have been around twelve the next night. He and Hermione had spent the entire day at the hospital. As soon as it was dark, Lupin escorted them back to Hermione's home, where they had just sat together. Hermione had cried a lot, while Harry had tried to comfort her.

As he woke up, Harry remembered. He had just had another nightmare. Her had seen Hermione lying tied up on the floor of a dungeon and crying. He could also see Lord Voldemort kneeling over her, his wand pointed at her, his face in a serpent-like contortion, undoubtedly happy with all the torturing he could do.

When he woke up, Harry's vision was all dark and groggy, since the lights were out and he did not have his glasses on. He suddenly heard the  door open.   
Someone else was in the room and Harry instinctively reached for his wand lying on the bedside table. However, his sense caught up with him, as his fingers left the wand and went on to the torch that was lying beside it.

"Lumos!" he muttered in good humour as he switched on the torch (he was hardly feeling humoured though) and the torch bulb flared up casting its light around and revealing-

"Hermione!" Harry cried out aloud. "What are you doing in here?"

Hermione was standing near the foot of the bed, shaking visibly. She was scared, no, it would be an understatement. She felt positively terrified.

Harry threw aside his covers and not caring that he was clad only in his boxers, he walked upto her and put his arm around her. Then he led her by her hand to the bed, sat her down and switched on the lights. Tears were glistening in her eyes. He took her hands in his own and caressed them softly.

"What's the matter, Hermione? Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

Hermione started crying as she said, "Harry, I don't know what to do. I don't know whom to trust. I mean, with Mum and Dad both in hospital after the attack, I just don't know anything. The doctor says they are going to be fine, but when is that going to be? I am scared, Harry; more than I have been my entire life. I want to be strong, but I don't know if I can be. I am worried sick, Harry."

"Is that all?" Harry asked her.

"Yes, that pretty much sums it all up."

"Who's looking after your parents at the hospital now?"

"Dumbledore and Lupin are there. Dumbledore seems to have taken all the responsibility on himself. He told they will be there to look after them, in case they need something."

Hermione shook her head as she said this. It was apparent that she did not believe such a thing would happen. Harry felt his own guilt conscience resurface, but he knew he had much more important things to do. He had to console her, comfort her, like she had tried to do after Sirius' death.

He ignored the guilt that was swelling in the pit of his stomach and said, "Herm, come here. Come on now, give me a hug."

He motioned Hermione towards himself and spread his arms out so that she could embrace him. She came upto him and he gave her a big hug. She was dressed in a thin, blue nightdown and her hair was loose and flying all around. Even as she sobbed against his chest, he felt nervous.

"You know Hermione, this is making me real nervous," Harry said after sometime. They had not yet broken the hug.

"What?" Hermione asked him.

Harry replied with a tongue-in-cheek answer, "Well you know! I am sitting before a beautiful witch who happens to be my best friend, bare-chested and without an ounce of clothing on my body except my boxers."

To his relief, Hermione laughed. Her laughter was like music to his ears.

"Just like Harry Potter!" she said, "always the one to say the right thing to make one happy."

Harry leaned against her and kissed her softly on the cheek. He told her, "You know, Hermione, you are beautiful and I hate to see you crying."

Even as he said it, Harry regretted opening his mouth. She looked stunned for a second but soon, tears came welling into her eyes. Her hazel eyes were hidden behind a veil of water and she took her head in her hands and started sobbing.

Harry seemed to be at a loss regarding what to do. Then he decided to take the straight approach. He put her arm gently around Hermione and spoke softly, "I know it has been difficult for you, Herm. But you need to know that we are all there for you, to help you get through this. And it is not going to be long either, is it? Your parents will be healthy again in some days and everything will return to normal."

"But why did it have to happen to me?" Then noticing the pained expression on Harry's face, she said quickly, "I didn't mean that."

Harry stopped her and said, "You know Herm. At the party while cutting the cake, when you told me to make a wish, I wished that all my friends and their families remained safe. I wished that the factors that have made my life the hell that it is, should never affect any of you. But then, like all of my wishes this wish, too, was not fulfilled."

Now it was Hermione's turn to play the role of comforting Harry. She said, "Don't blame yourself Harry. It's not your fault. It's just that I don't understand. Everything was perfect till yesterday afternoon. And now, my whole world is turned upside down. I don't know how to react to all this. I don't think I am strong enough to deal with all this."

Harry squeezed her hand and said, "Listen to me now. Hermione, you don't need to react to everything all the time. You don't need to be strong all the time. Sometimes, you can afford to be yourself. After all, you are also a human being. You have your own fads and foibles. You too, feel the need to cry sometimes. You feel the need to laugh sometimes. In those times, you have to let yourself go. You must cast aside all aspersions in these times and do what you want to do. You cannot just go around bottling up all your emotions."

Hermione now looked at him as if he had grown right before him. Ignoring her gaze, Harry continued, "You can trust me, Herm. You can trust all of the Order. You can trust us to help you and to be with you when you need us. If you do that, your worries will be greatly reduced. You just need to try. You need to accept what has happened, take it in your own stride and continue to live your life, the way you have. After all, this is not likely to have caused any lasting damage."

It was now Harry's turn to look uncomfortable, though. Hermione was staring at him with the same piercing gaze, that made the object cower under the gaze. She looked up at him and said slowly and quietly, "But that could also apply to you, the way you have dealt with Sirius' death. It seems that it is easier to say these things than to do them actually."

"That…was…a different matter," Harry stuttered unconvincingly.

"But…"

"No, Hermione. I don't think I can talk about that. Not yet, not with all that has happened," Harry interrupted her, before she could complete her sentence.

An extended period of silence followed this. They were both sitting side by side on the bed but no one was talking. Hermione was looking at the floor and Harry was staring at the doorway.

At long last, Hermione broke the silence and asked, "Harry, can I ask you for something?"

"Well, okay."

"Can I sleep with you here tonight?" she asked him.

Harry felt his heart skip a beat. What was Hermione speaking of? Was she really Hermione? What was she playing at?

Hermione read the incredulous expression on his face and said quickly, "No, I don't mean anything like that. It's just that I feel scared to be alone. Whenever I close my eyes, I see Mum and Dad, bloodied and bandaged and lying in the hospital."

Harry understood what she was trying to tell him, perhaps better than anyone else could. He smiled at her, "Very well. You can just lie down here beside me."

She lay down and he put his arm around her, her head resting on his shoulders, hoping to make her more comfortable. She snuggled right into him and Harry felt her locks tingling his ribs. She closed her eyes and said, "Thank you, Harry."

Soon, Hermione felt the warmth that emanated from his body and she felt secure and protected. Just before she fell asleep, she muttered, "I love you, Harry."

Immediately after that, she fell asleep, leaving Harry with very complicated thoughts about what his best friend had just said.

What You Can Expect Next: 

                                Will Hermione's parents recover fully? What did Hermione imply when she said that she loved Harry? Will this affect their friendship? All this and much more in the next chapter – Meet the Parents.

Author's Note:

Phew! That was difficult. I had to explain just about everything in this chapter and also insert the philosophical part, but I believe I enjoyed myself greatly. Before finishing, I must remind you that I am going to be away for the next seven days. I promise that I will update the story with Chapter 4 by June 17th. Till then, read on and review.


	4. Of Visions and Confessions

**Chapter Four**

**Of Visions And Confessions**

That night, Harry lay awake for a long time, thinking about all that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, and not just about the last thing that Hermione had said. He had always wondered what it was like to have a proper birthday with a cake and all that. He had always wanted to have an 'eventful' birthday, but now that he had had one, he wished that he had no birthday.

Harry always associated himself with the good of the people and as such it was difficult for him to blame anyone but himself for all that had happened. He tried to comfort himself by reminding that if it weren't for the birthday party, not only Hermione's parents but also Hermione and the Weasleys would have been fighting for their life. However, this argument clearly didn't work for Harry who had taken to his heart the notion that only he was to blame for all that had happened.

'I should have disassociated myself from Ron and Hermione long ago,' he thought, 'Maybe I should go now and never show them my face again.'

However, sense caught up with him as he remembered what Dumbledore had said about Hermione being safest with him in view of the current circumstances. He found that he could not sleep and so decided to take a shower. Already, it was six and the sun was rising. He got up quietly and made his way to the door of the room. He had been very careful not to disturb Hermione, who was still sleeping like a baby.

Suddenly, Harry's scar began to throb painfully. In the past few weeks, it had pricked continuously but this was more than an ordinary prick. He felt that something was about to happen and as it did, Harry's scar burst open and he collapsed onto the floor in agony.

_Harry felt like he was part of a great creature, coiled and snake-like. Yes, this was the creature that connected him to Voldemort. Why didn't he learn Occlumency? He could have avoided this vision. Harry thought to himself even as he felt the pain recede. He found himself in a dark and vaguely familiar setting. Harry tried to look at himself and realised that he had no control over his movements. With a jolt, he realized where he was. He was inside Lord Voldemort, like the other times last year when he had visions of Voldemort.___

_Voldemort was apparently waiting for someone. Soon, muffled sounds came down from the staircase nearby. Someone shouted, "Leave us."___

_Now, it dawned upon Harry where he was. He was at 4, __Privet Drive__. He was in his aunt and uncle's home. And Voldemort was in there, appa__rently waiting to torture them. As much as Harry hated the Dursleys, he could not bear the thought of anyone being tortured so by Lord Voldemort. He tried to fight, he tried to break the connection but he was failing miserably.___

_Finally, __Vernon__ and Petunia Dursley were brought down before Lord Voldemort. Both of them looked at Voldemort with fearful eyes. However, Uncle Vernon did manage to stammer out, "Who are you? Why have you captured me and my wife?"___

_Lord Voldemort laughed his loud, eerie laugh. Harry felt the same laugh emanating from his own throat. It was sickening. Then suddenly he thought with a jolt, 'He still had control of his mind, even though he was inside Voldemort.'___

_But his musings were interrupted when Voldemort spoke again, "I am Lord Voldemort. And I have come here to meet you." The voice was undoubtedly Voldemort's version of trying to speak in a falsely cheery voice. But the tone was nothing short of hideous. He walked around and then suddenly rounded upon Aunt Petunia.___

_Her eyes were fearful, but something was wrong. Harry thought that they did not look fearful enough. No, they didn't. Last year, Aunt Petunia showed her fear even when Harry had said Lord Voldemort's name but this time was different. Harry expected other Muggles to show such fear but Aunt Petunia? No, she knew about the magical world. She even knew a bit about Lord Voldemort, even though she didn't let anything on that. So why would she react so relatively mildly?___

_But again, Harry had no time to continue his train of thoughts, for Lord Voldemort spoke again, this time in his usual harsh tone, "So, you are Lily Potter's sister, are you? Well, I don't see any resemblance though. No wonder you are a Muggle, just like her."___

_However, Uncle Vernon interrupted him, "What do you want from us? We don't have anything that you wizards might want."___

_Again, this struck Harry as odd. He seriously doubted if Uncle Vernon would say out the word 'wizard' loudly even if he were facing certain death. (Not that he was not, at the current moment.)___

_"What do I want?" Voldemort continued. "I want Harry Potter."___

_"But he…he is not here," Aunt Petunia stammered.___

_"I know he is not," replied Lord Voldemort. "But wherever he is, I want to show to him the consequences of defying me. It was the Mudblood's parents first and now it will be you."___

_With that, Voldemort raised his wand and cried, "Crucio!"___

As soon as the spell was uttered, Harry felt the seering pain in his forehead. He suddenly found himself flailing his hands and legs about as he lay on the floor. Hermione was leaning over him. She had his head in her hands and was asking, "What's the matter, Harry? Was it another vision? Are you okay?"

Harry nodded quietly. He thought about what he had seen. To his surprise, he remembered every detail of what had happened. That was quite unusual. Usually, he remembered the visions in bits and snippets but here he was sitting, being able to recount every bit of what he'd seen.

Hermione let go of him slowly and asked, "Harry, what happened?"

Harry replied, "I had this vision."

"About what?" she asked. There was great concern in her eyes.

"I saw," Harry replied, "I saw Voldemort torturing the Dursleys, I mean, my aunt and uncle."

"I know who the Dursleys are," Hermione broke in. "What happened next? Are they okay?"

Harry looked around the room. With every passing second, he could see things more clearly. Apparently, the effect of the vision was wearing off. He remembered all that he had seen once again. It was real, but eerily so. Okay, Voldemort himself was scary. But there was something missing, something that begged to be noticed. As much as he believed that what he had seen was real, Harry's brain began analysing things. Finally, he got it. The vision wasn't real. It was an act, either to warn Harry or to lure him into a trap.

He looked at Hermione who was looking anxiously at him, her eyes fixed upon his face. He said, "I think the vision was a fluke."

"What do you mean?" she asked her.

"I mean, it was just like the other time when Voldemort used Sirius' image to lure me into the Department of Mysteries. I am sure this was a trap as a well, or maybe, a warning."

"A warning?" Hermione said faintly.

"Yes, a warning," Harry continued, "A warning meant for me, so that I realise that Voldemort cannot be defeated. He even mentioned the attack on your parents. I think it was a warning. Yes, it was."

"Harry, but I don't know…," Hermione began. "It could also be very real, for all you know."

Harry looked at her, with sheer disbelief in his eyes. He remembered that it was Hermione who was the only one who had tried to dissuade him from going to the Department of Mysteries. And now, she was the one who was actually saying that the vision he had just had might be real.

"Harry, don't get me wrong," Hermione continued, "But I think that maybe, a part of you does want the Dursleys to get hurt. A part of you wants them to suffer for the way they have always treated you. Maybe, that's why you think that this vision isn't real."

So, this was the problem. She thought that he might just be ignoring it because it was the Dursleys. Harry felt anger boiling inside of him.

"Hermione," he began hotly. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY BEST FRIEND. I THOUGHT YOU KNEW ME. AND NOW I FIND YOU ACCUSING ME OF TURNING A BLIND EYE TO SOMEONE'S PAIN AND SUFFERING. I WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO ANYONE, NOT EVEN THE DURSLEYS. THEN HOW CAN YOU ACCUSE ME OF THIS?"

Hermione looked at him, tears in her eyes, "Harry, please calm down."

But Harry continued shouting. He shouted, "CALM DOWN! CALM DOWN! IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT I AM ANGRY. IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT I WAS ACCUSED OF SOMETHING BY MY BEST FRIEND WHO IS STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME."

"Harry, please," Hermione said. "Try and understand. For all we know, Voldemort may really have your aunt and uncle as captives at this very moment. He could be torturing them now."

"No," Harry said quietly, "He's not."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

"Because of my scar," Harry replied. "If Voldemort would have hurt them, I would have known till now. It would have burnt white. But it is just throbbing a bit, just like the night when I got the vision about Sirius."

"But…" Hermione began. Harry could sense another argument coming his way, so he interrupted her and said, "And it's not just that, Hermione. The people there! I mean it wasn't like the Dursleys at all. In fact, come to think to it, even the house wasn't really like how it should have been."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It was a bit messy," Harry replied patiently. "And knowing the Dursleys, they would never leave their house messy. It was just so unlike them."

"Maybe the mess was created by Voldemort and the Death Eaters," Hermione interjected.

"No," Harry continued. "I don't think so. It wasn't like the mess Voldemort would create. I mean, if I know him, he would prefer devastation and not just a mere mess. It was more like an ordinary home. And that is not like the Dursleys either."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak something. But Harry, sensing a question coming, said quickly, "And that was not all. Aunt Petunia, she was afraid, yes. But I don't think she was afraid enough. I mean, she knows about Voldemort. She knows about what it was like when he was trying to capture. She knows all this. She heard from my mother. And her eyes, they were not really like they should be. There was fear, but only such fear as an ordinary Muggle would have while facing someone with a wand in his hand. If it really had been Aunt Petunia, it would have been terror in those eyes, and not fear."

As he finished saying this, Harry was rather taken aback. What he had just said sounded so much unlike him. It sounded so, so very mature. Just like last night when he had tried to comfort Hermione. Harry was surprised at this, and he wasn't the only one. Even Hermione was looking at him with wonder in her eyes, as if something extraordinary had happened to him before her very eyes. Harry had developed quite a reputation of being a hot-headed person during school last year and it was odd to see him so calm about something that could be so serious.

Hermione finally tore away her gaze from Harry and said, "Are you sure about this Harry? I mean, I think we should at least inform Dumbledore."

"No," Harry replied quickly, "Everything is just fine. It's just that I don't want to inform Dumbledore about such a trivial thing as this false alarm."

"But I think we should at least check on your aunt and uncle. Just for confirmation. We could ask Lupin to do so," she looked at him as she said this. She knew that there was something wrong with Harry's view of Dumbledore. Usually, he'd have been the first to rush to Dumbledore with these things, but in the last nine months or so, he'd always avoided telling Dumbledore about such things.

Hearing Lupin's name, Harry nodded to her, "I think we can do that."

"Wait a minute!" said Hermione, "I will do the necessary. I think you should change though. I'll be back in five minutes."

As Hermione climbed down the stars, Harry realized with a start that he was still clad only in his boxer shorts. He looked around the room and finding a towel and some clean clothes, he walked to the shower and turned on the tap.

It took him about ten minutes to get ready, by which time Hermione was back in his room. She looked pleased about something. As he entered, she said, "Lupin apparated there and checked on the Dursleys. Apparently, they are still sound asleep. He even went to your cousin's boarding school and found that everything was okay."

"So it _was_ a fluke." Harry said with a triumphant, low whistle.

"Apparently yes," Hermione said, "But if you think like I do Harry, you will notice that this is just not like Voldemort. I mean the last time he lured you to the Department of Mysteries, he wanted the prophecy. But what could he want this time?"

"Well, at least everything is okay," Harry said unconvincingly.

"At least for the present," Hermione muttered as she exited the room and left Harry to think about what she had just said for the second time in the last eight hours.

Harry and Hermione were accompanied that day to the hospital by Nick MacPherson, a new recruit for the Order. He was a Muggle-born Healer and Harry was a bit sceptical about what a Healer was doing in the Order. But Lupin had told him that Nick was an excellent student in his time at Hogwarts. He had the chance to choose from two professions: as a Healer or an Auror. Although Nick had chosen the latter, he was still a very able hand at duelling. Lupin had told him that Nick was another Metamorphmagus (like Tonks) and that meant that he could use his abilities to act as an undercover agent for the Order. Personally, Harry had this sneaking suspicion that he was supervising the magical treatment of Hermione's parents.

When they reached the hospital, Harry expected Nick to lead them to the I.C.U. But instead, he lead them to another room. Before he knocked on the door, he just looked at both of them, "I think you are in for a pleasant surprise here."

As soon as they heard his words, both Harry and Hermione knew what Nick was trying to say. The same instant when he knocked, a voice came from inside, "Come in."

Hermione rushed inside to find both her parents awake and sitting in their respective beds. Hermione ran to their side and planted herself firmly on a chair in between the two beds. She said, "Mum, Dad! You are okay!"

"Of course, we are, dear," Mrs Granger replied, "Dr or should I say Healer MacPherson has told us everything about what happened. I must say we were very lucky. Must have given you quite a fright."

"Oh, it's nothing," Hermione said, "At least you are okay now."

Harry and Nick left the room in order to give the Granger family some time together. When they got back to the waiting lounge, Harry saw Dumbledore standing there. He motioned Harry towards him.

As soon as Harry reached Dumbledore, he took him by the shoulder and led him to some neighbouring chairs. They sat down and Dumbledore surveyed Harry from head to foot.

"So Harry?" Dumbledore asked fixing his penetrating gaze on him, "Can you tell me why Miss Granger asked Remus to check on the Dursleys early this morning?"

No sooner did he hear this than Harry realize that he would have to tell Dumbledore the truth. So, he told the Headmaster everything about the vision and his conjecture that the vision was a lie. Dumbledore heard everything patiently.

After Harry finished, he said, "Well done, Harry. You have now begun to see past the lies that Voldemort places in your path. I think that is a very good sign."

Then he looked thoughtful and continued, "But then again, I have known Voldemort for years, ever since he was eleven years old and was known as Tom Riddle. He is not one to do anything without a reason. So why did he show you this vision? Was it to test you? Or was it for anything else?

"This is disturbing, Harry. Yes, it is disturbing. Voldemort is upto something that we do not know about and I think the sooner we find it out, the better it will be for us and especially for you. I think that your presence is no longer an insurance for the safety of you an your friends. I think it is best if you stay with the Grangers for the rest of the summer. For that time and after that for Miss Granger's parents, one Order member will be indefinitely stationed with them. And remember this Harry, Voldemort has set his plan in motion and if we do not exercise 'constant vigilance' as Moody says, we may find ourselves in problems worse than any we have faced thus far."

Harry nodded. He understood what was required of him.

"Sir," he said, "Mr and Mrs Granger, when did they wake up?"

"They have been awake for about six hours now," Dumbledore replied. "You were not informed since we had to tell them everything first. They are all right now and seem to have accept what had happened to them. They will be in the hospital for seven more days. (Dumbledore shook his head as he said this) The Muggle Doctor believes that he effected a miracle by curing them and he wants to be sure of what he did before he discharges them. Evidently, he wants to write a research paper about their case in a medical journal."

Dumbledore stopped and looked at Harry over his half-moon glasses. There was a twinkle in his eyes. Clearly, he had enjoyed this little joke. 'Poor Doctor!' Harry thought, 'He doesn't even know how his patients were cured and he still opts to write a research paper.'

Dumbledore cleared his throat once again. "I think it is time for me to go. And yes, one more thing! I think this is a time for celebration and so, the Order is giving a small dinner party at the Grangers' home. Although Miss Granger's parents won't be there, I am sure you will be pleased to attend it alongwith Miss Granger herself. And don't worry, I have already taken her permission for this."

Harry grinned at Dumbledore. He couldn't wait for tonight, especially since things were starting to look up.

Dinner that night was a noisy affair. Besides Harry and Hermione, Lupin, Tonks and Nick were also there. Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself when he felt Hermione taking his hand and pressing a note against it.

Harry opened the note and read:

_Harry,___

_I want to talk to you, alone. Please come to my room.___

_Hermione.___

Harry looked over to where Hermione was standing. She shot him a pointed glance, and started moving upstairs. Harry waited for her to get a start and then excusing himself, he followed her. He reached Hermione's room and yanked the door open. At that moment, he realized that Hermione had been waiting for him in the landing.

Harry entered the room, closely followed by Hermione. As soon as they entered, Hermione closed the door behind her, and stood there, as if waiting for Harry to say something.

At last, Harry could take it no more. He said, "You wanted to talk to me? alone?"

Hermione nodded.

"What about?" Harry asked her, with a feeling in the pit of his stomach that meant that he already had a very good notion about the subject of this 'talk'. He wondered how much time in the last few days he had spent talking to people. First there was Dumbledore, and now it was Hermione's turn. He began to wonder about the chances of Ron asking him to have a private conversation.

But Hermione did not seem to notice the frown that Harry wore while he thought. She was saying, "About last night. About what happened last night."

"Nothing happened," Harry interjected. "So why do you want to talk about it?"

"I didn't say it was anything to do with-" Hermione began but Harry broke her off, "Okay, fine. Just say what you want to."

Hermione nodded once again. She went closer to Harry and hugged Harry. Harry allowed himself to be embraced but didn't embrace her in return. He wanted to know for sure where this was going. Hermione often did some pretty strange things (though you wouldn't think about them from her demeanour, S.P.E.W. being the most prominent example) and Harry wanted to be sure of what was happening.

Hermione said, "Harry, do you remember what I told you last night?"

"What?" Harry lied as if he did not have a single idea about what she meant.

"That I love you," Hermione said softly.

Harry laughed aloud loudly. He broke off from the embrace and began walking around the room, laughing to himself. Finally, he stopped, seeing the hurt look on Hermione's face and said, "Of course you love me. I am your best friend."

"No, Harry," Hermione said, "It's not love like that of two friends, it's more than that. I am sure that I love you, more than as a friend."

Harry looked into her hazel eyes. What she was saying was undoubtedly true. It could be seen in her eyes. Harry looked into those eyes, mesmerized. He had never really looked at Hermione as a girl. All this time that he had known her, he had considered her as nothing beyond his best friend. But now, there she was, confessing his love for her. Harry thought about this for a moment. Hermione was never one to take impromptu decisions. She must have considered this, for quite some time. After all, she never did something that was rushed and illogical.

Harry thought in his mind, about how she looked when he had met her in Little Whinging a couple of days ago. He scanned her features as her image flashed in his mind. She was not very beautiful, no not really. In fact, she was just plain and simple pretty. Her beauty lay in her thinking and her simple manners, not in her clothes and her makeup or things of that sort. She had this kind of natural freshness around her which Harry thought, every sane person would want. Now Harry begun to understand why Viktor Krum had asked her out for the Yule Ball. Once you began seeing her as a girl (which Harry never had, to be honest), you began to appreciate her beauty, not only of the body but also of her mind.

As Harry thought all this, he gradually found himself in a trance-like condition. Suddenly something snapped in his mind and he shook himself up. He paced around the room once again, muttering to himself, "This cannot be happening…No, this cannot be happening…"

Hermione looked at him with alarm in her eyes. She had never expected her to take things like this and react so unusually. In fact, she did not even know why she had said what she had to Harry. It all seemed illogical and for the first time in her life, Hermione seemed confused.

Harry stopped suddenly and said, "This can't be true, Hermione. I mean, I…we are best friends. This cannot happen between us!"

Hermione said nothing. Harry continued, "Here I am, the most wanted wizard in the eyes of the most powerful Dark Wizard of the century and your best friend, and…I mean I have never ever looked like that at you…And you…you are going out with Ron, who also happens to be our other best friend…And what do we tell him?...I mean, I don't understand…This all seems so illogical, but then again, I have never seen you being illogical."

Hermione walked upto Harry again. He was looking out of the open window, onto the street outside. His back was turned towards her. Hermione walked upto him and put her hand gingerly on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch. He turned around and took her by the shoulders. Looking straight into her eyes, he said, "Hermione, please tell me this is a lie. Please…(he looked pleadingly at her, but seeing no response coming, he continued)…I am confused. I don't know what to do, Hermione."

"Neither do I, Harry," Hermione said, "I had only heard and read till now that love is illogical, but I never believed in it. But I do now, Harry. I know one thing for sure about this, and that is, I love you, with all my heart."

Harry looked at her for a moment. She seemed so weak, so vulnerable at that moment and he desired nothing more than to protect her, to take her in his arms and shield her. She seemed lost, as she stood there waiting for his response.

Suddenly, a sudden urge overtook Harry and he embraced her. He cupped her face in his hands and lifted it upwards, towards his own face. At the same time, he brought his lips down and their lips were locked together. Hermione seemed taken aback by this sudden act but soon, she too, opened up. They opened their mouths and let their tongues intertwine with each other. They tasted each other long and slowly and found themselves falling into a sea of love and warmth.

Suddenly, for the second time in the last few minutes, Harry snapped out of his trance-like state. He pulled away from Hermione and looked away from her.

"I can't Hermione," he said, "As much as I want to, I can't."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I don't know if I am ready for anything like this," came Harry's reply. "I don't know if I am ready for starting a relationship with someone else. Just look at what happened to all the relations that I have had. My parents…they were killed by Voldemort. Sirius…Voldemort's cronies took him away from me. And now, you…I mean the only reason your parents were attacked is that you are my best friend. Just being my best friend got you landed up in this mess, then can you imagine what can happen if you become my girlfriend, or someone dearer that even that to me."

"Harry," Hermione tried to assuage his fears, "You cannot blame yourself for all that has happened. You heard Dumbledore the other night. We are at war and in a war, there are always going to be such incidents. No war can be fought without murder and mayhem, otherwise it wouldn't be called a war. Harry, I don't blame you for anything that has happened. Nobody does. All I want is to be with you, and to help you in whatever you do.

"Don't you get it Harry? Even in this war where you are one of the prime targets, I want to be with you. If that isn't love, nothing is. I love you Harry. It is okay if you say no to me, but don't say that you don't understand. Don't let a murderer come in between you and what you feel."

Harry was greatly calmed by what Hermione said. He took a deep breath.

"Hermione?" asked Harry. "Can I ask you something?" She nodded.

"Why do you love me?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "I don't know when, where, how or why. But I do know one thing about all this, Harry, the one thing that I have confessed to you. I love you and it will always be so."

"But Ron?" Harry asked weakly. "You are going out with him, aren't you? How are we going to tell him? How is he going to react? We cannot do this to our best friend."

"I went out with Ron," Hermione replied, "But only once. It didn't work out. It was just that problem with us, you know. I told you about that in my letter. We are just too different. When he asked me out, I just didn't have the heart to refuse him, but it has become all the more clear to me and I hope, to him, that we are meant to be only friends and nothing more than that."

"What happened?"

"He was over-enthusiastic, as usual, and he began goofing up everything. The Quidditch match…and then the dinner. It was horrible, he continued to goof up and what's worse, I picked on him for every one of those things. Something just took me over and I couldn't stop myself. Finally, he thought that I love someone else, and he took that someone else to be Viktor. We had a big shouting match, that day, before everyone in the restaurant and we went off, our own ways after that. I have spoken to him only once since then, that is the day before your birthday."

Harry nodded. That would certainly, explain many things. "Hermione," he asked, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes Harry," she nodded as she said so. "I love you and nothing is going to change that."

Harry just shifted uncomfortably. He looked away from her again and said softly, "Hermione, I think I need time. I need time to think about this. I need time to decide."

"You can have all the time you want," she said, "You can take all the time you need to decide, Harry and for that, I am prepared to give you my whole life time."

With that, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips. He caught on involuntarily and they kissed passionately once more, enjoying the taste of each others' lips.

'BANG!'

Suddenly, there was a loud noise somewhere and a door flew open. Harry and Hermione broke off their kiss and wand in hand, started trying to figure out what had happened. The question in their minds was: What new evil had come to the Granger home?

_What You Can Expect Next: _

_ What was the sound that was made? Find out the answer to that. And yes, there might be a death in the next chapter, maybe even multiple deaths. Besides, Harry and Hermione will be returning to the magical world and to Ron, as they get ready to catch the Hogwarts Express. Will Ron find out about what is happening between his best friends? Will he ignore it or be a prat about it? Find out all about this in the next chapter, which I will upload by June 21st._

_Author's Note:_

_Well! I am back! It was a nice trip and I have come back with my batteries recharged. So, it will hopefully be full speed from here on. I have to admit that I have forgotten to put the disclaimer everywhere, so I would just like to say that the characters in this fic do not belong to me. They belong to J.K.Rowling. In addition, I believe that four or five lines in Chapter 3 were borrowed from the Lord of the Rings. So, I believe I owe Madfoot Moony for pointing that out to me and everyone else. You see, my favourite book and movies are LoTR, so I may have knowingly and unknowingly put in some of the quotes from there._

_Another thing that I would like to tell you is that I have almost decided fully upon the plot of this fic. I hope to get it fixed by the next four days. So you can expect to get a general idea of the plot along with the next chapter (although not necessarily in the chapter itself. If I cannot accommodate it in the text, I will do so in the Author's Note). So, till June 21st (or possibly sooner), bye! Keep reading and reviewing!_


	5. The Signs of Things to Come

**Chapter Five**

**The Signs of Things to Come**

Minerva McGonagall sat at the desk in her office, doing her work. She had been doing this since the last twenty years, ever since she had been appointed Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. It was her job to send the school letters to all the students. She quite enjoyed this work. It was not enough to keep her busy during the vacations and being the workaholic that she was, Professor McGonagall thought that some work was at least better than none.

However, this year around, it was different. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and besides her normal work, she did some voluntary work for the Order as well. Not that she minded though. But at seventy, and two months after she had recovered from a potentially fatal attack, Professor McGonagall found herself behind schedule for the first time in her life. She was the kind of person whom students like Hermione Granger looked to as role models and she did not think that being late would serve a good influence for the students.

However, late as she was, Professor McGonagall couldn't help it. The Ministry had made a mess of the O.W.L. results and so, it was left to her to cope with the delay and send letters to the sixth-year students nearly one month behind schedule. Most wouldn't really mind, thinking that it was best if the results were delayed, but few would definitely take notice. At this, the name of Hermione Granger popped into her mind. But then again, with all that was going on, maybe she was too occupied to notice, Professor McGonagall thought.

Normally, Professor McGonagall would use magic to do all the work with the letters. But for the fifth and seventh years, she always made it a point to skip the routine and do everything the Muggle way. It gave her a strange sense of satisfaction reviewing the performances of all these students that she had taught over the years. Sure, not all the students did very well, but Professor McGonagall had been in the profession of teaching long enough to know that results did not convey the full meaning of what a student had learnt at school.

She smiled to herself as she thought this. The names of Fred and George Weasley came to her mind. They had each got three owls only during their fifth year and had left school without appearing for the NEWTs last year – their seventh and last at Hogwarts. And yet, here they were, doing very well for themselves in the outside world. Their shop, Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, located at 92, Diagon Alley, was creating ripples in the wizarding world. (They had long overtaken Zonko's as the most popular wizard joke shop in the whole of England and had even started exporting their goods) Professor McGonagall had been to their shop once that summer, not for making any purchases but because the Weasley twins had specially invited her to the opening of their summer collection of joke items. And she had to admit that although the nature of the things on display didn't please her to say in the least, they were indeed, good specimens of magic. Professor McGonagall shook her head. The twins had joined the Order about a month ago and to her surprise, were very serious and helpful when it came to its affairs. Clearly, there was a part of them that knew when it was fine to be funny and when they had to be dead serious.

Professor McGonagall came upon her next letter. It read 'Granger, Hermione' at the top. Unlike the usual letters that were sent for all students, the letters for the fifth and seventh year students were also accompanied by transcripts of their performance in various exams. Professor McGonagall looked the letter up and down and a smile made its appearance in the corner of her mouth. She could trust Miss Granger to perform as well as she did. She had got herself eighteen owls and in the process, had created a new school record. So much so for the fact that Professor McGonagall had thought her own record of sixteen owls couldn't be beaten.

She took the letter folded it neatly and put it an envelop that had Hermione's address on it. She also added to the envelop, the usual letter informing the students about the re-opening of Hogwarts and the book list. After that, she sealed the envelop using her magic and put it on her 'out' tray. The owls would take care of the deliveries later.

After some more time of examining each letter individually to detect any flaws and sealing them up, Professor McGonagall came upon the one document she had wanted to see all along. The name 'Potter, Harry' was written over the transcript and Professor McGonagall looked it up and down with the hawk-like look that many of her students had come to be wary of over the years. She was quite surprised by what she saw. So much so, that she did not see a sallow-faced man with greasy, black hair enter her office and approach her desk.

"Professor McGonagall?" came the voice of Severus Snape. "Still busy with work, I see?"

Severus Snape had great respect for Professor McGonagall. She, along with Professor Dumbledore, was one of the two persons in the world against whom he felt no grievance. Even when he was at school, she was probably the only one who saw James Potter and his gang in true light – like that of mischief-makers. Over the years, she had become a big sister of sorts for him, and although the students felt that the two had great animosity, due to the fact that they were the Heads of Houses of the two most competitive houses at Hogwarts, they were in reality, good friends.

Hearing Snape, Professor McGonagall looked up and said, "Severus! How very surprising to see you! I don't suppose it is time for the meeting yet." She was referring to the Order meeting that she was supposed to attend with Dumbledore and Snape that evening.

"In fact, it is," Snape replied. Then with a pause, he smirked, "Tell me, what has made always punctual Professor McGonagall forget about time?"

McGonagall did not seem to mind in the least as she heard Snape's remark. She was quite used to his sarcastic comments and knew better than to take them to heart.

"You would too," she replied in a business like manner, "if you saw this."

She handed over Harry's transcript to Snape. A faint look of surprise registered itself on his normally expressionless face as he scanned the document up and down.

"I must admit," he said slowly, "this is surprising, to say in the least."

"I wouldn't think so," Professor McGonagall said, "After all, his parents were just brilliant, I wouldn't be surprised if he had come into his own this time around."

"You must be joking," Snape continued in the same silky dry voice, "With all that he had done last year and with all that he had on mind, I would have been surprised if he even got one owl. And now I see his official transcript in my hand, telling me that he has got no less than, well, twelve owls!"

"I think I will have to talk to Dumbledore…," Professor McGonagall began, but stopped as Dumbledore's voice floated in from the doorway and Dumbledore himself made his way towards her desk.

"Talk to me about what?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He walked up to the desk. Professor McGonagall asked him, "Shall I draw you a chair?"

"No," Dumbledore answered, "I think I will do that myself."

With that, he waved his wand and conjured a chair out of thin air. It was quite a comfortable and squashy armchair and Dumbledore seated himself firmly upon it. Once seated, he looked first at McGonagall and then at Snape.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" he asked again.

"Who else, Albus? About Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall replied dryly.

"What is it now?" Dumbledore asked.

"You remember how you vetoed my recommendation for making him a prefect last year. Then you did the same with my recommendation for making him the Gryffindor Quidditch captain this year, despite the fact that he is the only one on the team who has been playing for more than one year?" Professor McGonagall asked Dumbledore. He nodded slightly. Obviously, he remembered it well. Snape, meanwhile, continued listening, without saying a word.

"Why are you saying this? Isn't Mr Weasley carrying out his duties well?" Dumbledore asked.

Professor McGonagall continued, "No, Mr Weasley is okay. It's nothing against him. But I must say that I had told you then and I tell you even now that not making Harry a prefect and now, not giving him a chance to lead the Gryffindor Quidditch team were both wrong decisions on your part."

"And why would you say so?"

"Because the boy obviously has a knack for leading, Albus. And not only that, even his grades have picked up. Look! He has got twelve OWLs. That is more than anyone else has got, except for Miss Granger. That too, at a time when he was obviously not concentrating fully on his studies. You cannot deny it, Albus. He has got considerable talent…"

Dumbledore interrupted, "I never once have questioned his talent."

Professor McGonagall however continued, "I never said that you did. All I am trying to say is that he has finally started realizing what he is capable of. He is finally starting to use his potential and I think we ought to show more faith in him."

"Minerva, I don't think there has ever been any time when we have failed to show faith in Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Too much faith," Snape muttered in a whisper that was clearly audible.

"Excuse me, did you say anything, Severus?" Professor McGonagall asked him.

"No," Snape replied, "But now that this has come up, I would like to say, Headmaster, that although I believe Potter, being the mischief-maker that he is, should not be given any school responsibility, I do believe that he has done curiously well in these exams."

"And what may you mean by that?" Dumbledore asked him, fixing his blue eyes on Snape's black ones.

Snape opened his mouth to answer, but Professor McGonagall spoke before he could, "What Severus means, Albus, is that we believe it is time for Harry to step up and do what he has been destined to do."

"And may I know what he has been destined to do?" Professor Dumbledore asked calmly.

"You know it yourself. It was you who told the Order," Professor McGonagall replied.

"Then may I hear it again, just to make sure I have not forgotten any of it?" Dumbledore said.

Professor McGonagall dropped her voice into a hoarse whisper and said, "You said that Harry is the one who will defeat Vv – I mean, You-Know-Who."

"Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said, "May I remind you that I said that Harry is the only one who _can_ defeat Voldemort? The prophecy doesn't say that he will, it only says that he can. And may I also ask you what you are implying by telling me all this?"

"What I am implying, Albus," Professor McGonagall said, "is that I think Harry is ready."

A long moment of silence prevailed in the room after Professor McGonagall said this. It was only broken by the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace. Dumbledore shook his head slightly.

Finally, Snape broke the silence and said, "Headmaster, I think Professor McGonagall is right. I think Potter is ready. And I don't believe that there can be a better opportunity to fulfil the terms of the prophecy than this. The mind of the Dark Lord is shrouded with doubt. He overestimates Potter. He thinks that Potter is more powerful than him. All this has made him overcautious. Let us strike now that the iron is hot."

"Minerva, Severus, we are at war here," Dumbledore said, "And the decision on the fate of a war, especially one with so much at stake here, cannot be taken by a few persons alone in a few minutes, even as the one who has the power to end all this is unaware of everything."

"War! War! That is what we have been at for so long," Snape replied smoothly, "The war was never over, Headmaster. It has now gone on too long. Everyone is tired of it. If it stretches any longer, everybody's patience will begin to wane. What would you do then?"

"The desire for the end to come has clouded your rational thinking, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "I have said it repeatedly and I will say it again now, I do not think that Harry is ready. Not yet."

"Then when will he be ready?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"He will be ready when he has to be," Dumbledore replied. "I don't know when that will be, but one thing that I know is that it isn't now. No, it isn't. But at the same time, I will also say this, he has started on that path – the path on which he will get all that he needs to fulfil the prophecy. He has just started looking beyond the apparent and into all that lies underneath. Soon, he may succeed in getting the powers that he needs to fight Voldemort as an equal. But though that time is approaching, it is not now."

"Fifty years ago, I took some actions in haste and that haste proved very costly. Fifty years ago, I made a mistake – a mistake for which the whole wizarding world is having to suffer till today. And I don't want to repeat it. I will not hasten the end in the hope of getting it to come soon. I will not interfere with things as they are. No, if Harry needs time to be ready, I will give it to him."

"Don't you think you care too much for him?" Snape asked.

"Call it what you may," Dumbledore replied, "If this is care, then let it be said that I care for a person whom I would trust with my life. I care for a person whom, I trust, can find a solution to all this turmoil. And I would also advise you to put aside the thoughts of your rivalry with James and look at Harry for who he is." Dumbledore put a stern emphasis on the last sentence as he spoke.

Snape, however, didn't seem to hear what Dumbledore had just said.

"Don't you think your trust is misplaced and misdirected?" Snape asked again. But as soon as he asked the question, he regretted it, for Dumbledore's eyes became lifeless and he looked at him with a stony expression on his face.

He said slowly, emphasizing each and every word, "I do not think, Severus, that it is your wont to question me about who I trust. Many people may not have believed in the persons I trust, but they have always proved me right. And remember what happened fifteen years ago. When no one believed in someone, I trusted him."

At this, Dumbledore looked directly into Snape's eyes and all colour drained from his face. Dumbledore turned around and said loudly, "This has taken far too long. I think we must all get going. We have a meeting to attend."

Just as Dumbledore said this, the fireplace came to life and the head of Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the fire, "Albus," he panted, sounding as if he had just run a marathon, "The Granger home, it has been attacked."

'Why do things always have to be so complicated?' thought Ronald Weasley, as he lay back on his bed in his room at 12, Grimmauld Place. It was the same room that he had shared with Harry for about two months during the last year. The room was pretty much like what it had been then, except for one fact – the fact being that the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus – a great-great-grandfather of Sirius had become unusually quiet. Harry had told Ron and Hermione about how Phineas (he was immortalised as a portrait in the office of the Hogwarts Headmaster) had taken in the news of Sirius' death. (That was just about the only thing that Harry had let his friends in on about his talk with Dumbledore that night.) Ron believed that he had not yet gotten over the death of the last of his descendants.

Ron had been in this miserable house along with his family for the last three days – ever since they had abruptly left Harry's birthday party. Once there, he had been left alone with his sister Ginny in the house for a couple of hours. From what he had gathered, Ron realized that the rest of his family as well as some other members of the Order of the Phoenix had gone off to fight a group of Death Eaters somewhere. If Ron had known that 'that somewhere' was his home, he'd definitely have had a fit, but of course, he didn't know all this, not at that time. Neither did Ginny. He had endured the excruciating wait for more than two hours, before anyone returned. In the meantime, Ginny had already fallen asleep, tired from all the partying they had done earlier in the day.

The miserable house did nothing to cheer Ron up. Personally, he had always disliked this house filled with stuff related to Dark Magic, a nasty house elf and (to Ron, the nastiest things of all!) spiders. In the beginning, he had thought that the house was quite 'cool' – it was definitely bigger than the Burrow and his room was undoubtedly bigger. But soon, he had found out that bigger is definitely not always better. During his stay in the house during last year, Ron did not mind the house that much, especially since Harry and Hermione had been there with him. But now, having to wait there alone, without an inkling of a information as to what was going on, Ron could not wait to get out of this dark, dusty house and breathe the open air again.

It was two hours before anyone came back to Headquarters. Whoever it was rang the doorbell and this resulted in Sirius' mother starting to scream again. Apparently, she hadn't been in the least affected by the news of her older son's death and was still as nasty as ever. Ron, however, ignored her shouts just then and without even bothering to pull back the curtains over her portrait, he ran to the door. In the way, he tripped over the umbrella stand made from a troll's severed leg. This only served the purpose of adding to the din. As he opened the door, Ron found himself thinking that all the people outside would probably be prepared for a Death Eater attack, hearing all the noise that had been produced inside.

However, when he opened the door, Ron faced only a group of tired, haggard looking wizards and witches. They had obviously returned after the fight and from their tired yet cheerful demeanour, it was clear that they had won, at least this time. They seemed apparently unaware of all the din that was going on inside. They entered and conjured up some dinner for all of them. Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt were there alongwith his parents and brothers (except for Percy, who had apologised to his parents and was now trying for a full reconciliation. He had shifted into the Burrow with them now and things were almost back to normal, although they were just a bit strained).

From what Ron gathered, he heard that the Burrow had been attacked by a group of Death Eaters. He did not know why. He did not know that the attack had been planned to coincide with the attack on Hermione's home. Ron felt strangely happy. He'd never realized how much he loved his house until then, at a time when it could have been destroyed and all of them could have been killed.

But the joy was short-lived as his father told him about the attack on Hermione's parents and the critical condition that they were in. Ron wanted to go and visit Hermione but his parents as well as the other Order members (who irritatingly included his twin brothers as well). So, Ron had to be content with hearing bits and snippets of news from here and there while he was stuck up in this dark and gloomy house.

'Why do things have to be so complicated?' he thought as he lay in his bed. 'I want to be with Hermione, tell her I am sorry and help her, but all I get is to be stuck up in this house for three days, without any news of what is happening. How I hate being a Weasley, being driven around in a pack with my brothers and sisters!'

'I wish I were in Harry's place; I would at least know what is going on, I would at least be with Hermione,' he wished for the umpteenth time. And then suddenly it hit him, an idea! An idea that could earn him the scorn of everyone but Ron felt that it was worth it.

So, he quickly and quietly went downstairs. Once in the living room, he picked up a handful of Floo powder and flooed to a place in Hermione's neighbourhood. It was a wizarding shop that sold all kind of junk (to be honest). The proprietor of the shop was not there and Ron was thankful for that. He did not want anyone to ask him what he was doing there at this late hour.

Ron made his way up to Hermione's home. He had been to her house once, when they had gone out together. Ron tried not to remember what happened at their date as he made his way slowly through the darkness.

Finally, he reached Hermione's house. He stood nervously on the porch and fidgeted around a bit with the doorbell. That proved costly, for Ron did not see a group of black hooded and cloaked figures lurking nearby. One of them directed a spell at him. He did not feel anything, but just fell onto the porch. And before anyone knew, another of the figures sent a powerful spell at the door and the door burst open, letting out the light inside the house.

Lupin, Tonks and Nick were sitting comfortably downstairs in the living room as they saw Hermione and then, Harry go upstairs.

"Any bet for what's going on between them?" Tonks asked after sometime.

"Who?" Lupin asked her back.

"Who else? Harry and Hermione." Tonks replied.

"I think, _Nymphadora_, it is better that we don't get involved in this. Harry is sixteen now and Hermione will be as well in a few days. I don't think it is a good idea for us to interfere in this. If there is anything, they are mature enough to realize it and act accordingly," Lupin lectured.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell me that. They have been hanging around each other for the last five years and when they have finally noticed each other, you tell me to buzz off! That will just not do," Tonks muttered.

Nick, who had been quiet till now, said, "I don't know them well, to say in the least, but if you ask me, I think -"

But what he thought, no one was able to tell afterwards because just then, the door to the house flew open with a loud bang and a group of Death Eaters entered and it started raining spells.

It was really fortunate that all three of them were very quick, with both their wands and their movement. They quickly got over the initial shock of the Death Eater attack and started trying to hit them with their spells in turn.

A battle ensued, then and there, as the three Order members tried to fight off those five Death Eaters. Meanwhile, no one was aware of the fact that Ron Weasley was lying on the porch, injured.

Meanwhile, as the duels progressed downstairs, Harry and Hermione looked at each other, their wands out before them.

"What do you think it is?" Harry asked her.

She shook her head. Clearly, she had as little idea as he did. Suddenly, they hear Tonks scream out, "STUPEFY!"

That was all the cue that Harry and Hermione needed. They sprinted down the stairs and into the living room. There they were met with sight that they had feared. Lupin and Nick were fighting two Death Eaters at once, while Tonks was fighting one that was almost double her size.

Upon seeing the Death Eaters, Hermione joined the fray quickly, but Harry stood there, rooted to his place.

'Something is wrong. These are not Death Eaters,' a small voice in his head told him.

'But they are dressed like Death Eaters,' the rest of his brain reasoned.

'Maybe they are just an illusion, created by Voldemort. Maybe they aren't real then,' the small voice said again.

At this, Harry became convinced that it was indeed the case. He wondered just what to do. Just then, a spell came flying by him and missed by millimetres.

'That was close,' thought Harry, 'What should I do now though?'

Even as he said this, he did not move from the spot where he was standing. Hermione was getting really worried about what was happening to him, even as she conjured up a shield to protect herself from her opponent's spell.

Suddenly, Harry found himself trying to remove the illusion. As he did so, the voice in the back of his head egged him on, 'Yes, think they are not there. Believe in that, like you believed that the vision you saw today was a lie. Look at the room, but remove them from it. Believe in what you think, and not in the illusion. Use your mind.'

Harry found himself thinking more forcefully as time passed. Suddenly, the sensation passed over and Harry found himself looking at the living room. But how different it was from the living room of a few moments ago.

Lupin was getting up from the floor, dusting his robes as he did so. He seemed largely healthy, maybe it was the werewolf inside him that protected him as such. Tonks too, was not looking bad, if you discounted the gash on her arm. Nick was all right, although he was sweating from the encounter that they just had. Hermione looked a bit shaken, but was unscathed otherwise. Apparently, the Death Eaters had caused a lot of damage. Many things including the TV and several of the photos kept on the mantelpiece were broken.

Death Eaters? At this thought, Harry looked closely amidst the pile of rubbish that had been the result of all the duelling that had gone on. There he could discern clearly the shapes of five Death Eaters lying, apparently unconscious.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know," Hermione replied, "We were just fighting each of them and suddenly, they dropped to the ground and fell unconscious."

The others went around now, checking the Death Eaters and removing their hoods and masks to reveal their identity. But Harry still stood there, wondering. What had happened to the Death Eaters? And more importantly, what was happening to him? He had taken the Death Eaters to be a mere illusion and yet here they were, lying unconscious before him but in flesh and blood. How did it happen? Was he responsible? Had he done this to them?

Harry was abruptly brought out of his musings as Hermione shrieked, "There is someone out there, on the porch."

The five of them went slowly to the porch, fearing another attack that might happen. But when they reached the porch, Harry was stunned as were all others. Lying on the ground before them was the apparently lifeless body of Ron Weasley.

Nick regained his composure, probably either because he was a trained Healer and his professional capabilities came to the fore on seeing this or because he didn't know Ron as well as the others. He bent down and felt for Ron's breathing. He looked up at the others and said, "He is just stunned. Otherwise he's okay and yes, breathing. He's alive."

Those words seemed to bring everyone out of their shocked states. Lupin quickly pointed his wand at Ron and muttered, "Mobilicorpus!"

At that, Ron's body floated up in the air as if he was supported by an invisible stretcher. They took him inside to the room where Harry was sleeping and made him to lay on Harry's bed. Lupin looked at Tonks and said, "Inform everyone at Headquarters regarding what has happened."

She nodded and made her way out of the room, undoubtedly to apparate from there. Then Lupin turned to Nick and asked, "What do we do now?"

"Nothing," he replied, "Not for the time being. We have to first ascertain whether we can use magic on him and then I will do the 'enervate' spell."

Lupin nodded and then spoke to Harry and Hermione, "Undoubtedly, you want to be with your best friend. In case you need any of us, we will be downstairs."

After Nick and Lupin had gone away, Hermione asked, "Harry, do you think he will be all right."

Harry went to Hermione and pulled her in a hug. He said, "Yes, of course. You heard Nick. He'll be okay."

Hermione buried her head in Harry's shoulders. Slowly, she pulled away from him, as if she was doing so with great reluctance.

"Harry," she said. "We've to tell Ron about…you and me…about us."

"Not now."

"If not now, then when? Harry, he's our best friend. He has got the right to know. And if he finds out from anyone else, then he will never speak to us again."

"Herm, please. I don't think I am ready to tell anyone. Please don't feel bad but I am confused about all this. I am even confused about our relationship. I need time to think things out."

"I will give you time, Harry. All the time that you need. But couldn't we just tell him, as if it is just nothing more than a plain boyfriend-girlfriend thing?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "I don't think I could tell anyone that especially since it would be a lie, especially since I think-"

With that, Harry broke off and looked straight into Hermione's eyes. And for the first time, Hermione saw something there that she never had seen in those eyes – a feeling of true love.

"Think what, Harry?" she asked him.

But he didn't answer her and said instead, "Never mind. But promise me Hermione, that you will wait till I am ready to tell everyone this."

Hermione nodded and said softly, "I promise."

With that, Harry swept her into her arms and gave her a long, sweet kiss on the lips. Suddenly, they heard a low moaning sound emanating from Ron's direction. Hermione pulled away before he could give her another one and said, "I think we should go and tell Nick."

Harry nodded and they both went off together downstairs with Hermione thinking, 'This is going to be a very interesting year.'

Albus Dumbledore stared into the fire into the face of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He never allowed himself to be surprised, yet he had to admit that he was surprised with this news. He asked Kingsley, "What happened?"

Kingsley told him everything. Even as he listened to him, Dumbledore couldn't help but appreciate the reason why Kingsley was one of the top Aurors in the Ministry. He was always concise with his words and knew when to speak and when to attack. It was the former ability that he was exhibiting as he told Albus all that Tonks had reported at the Headquarters.

"Is Mr Weasley okay?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Kingsley replied, "Nick checked him up. Tonks said that he is just stunned and Nick told to wait before using 'Enervate' on him."

"The ones who attacked them – were they real Death Eaters?" Snape asked, coming to the fore.

"Yes," Kingsley replied, "They were undoubtedly so. But Tonks tells me that Potter apparently didn't believe so."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "What did he do?" he asked.

Kingsley replied, "Apparently, he just stood there, muttering something like 'They're not real'. And then something happened as the Death Eaters suddenly collapsed on the floor."

Dumbledore nodded. He said, "I understand all the Weasleys are by now at the Grangers."

Kingsley nodded.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Tell them to be there for tonight and then tomorrow, they will have to return to the Headquarters. And Kingsley, (his voice became softer and more thoughtful as he said this) go and check whether they really are Death Eaters."

Kingsley understood what Dumbledore meant. He wanted him to check the attackers' left arm. If they were Death Eaters, the Dark Mark would definitely be imprinted there. With an almost imperceptible nod of his head, he went and the fireplace returned to normal.

After Kingsley departed from the fire, Dumbledore turned around to find Snape and McGonagall looking closely at him.

"How do you think he did it?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"What?" Dumbledore asked as if he didn't have the slightest idea of what was happening,

"You know what I am talking about. How did Harry get rid of the Death Eaters? And that too, without his wand? How did he learn wandless magic? What does this mean?" McGonagall asked.

"It means that he used his mind for doing magic and not just his wand," Dumbledore replied slowly. And then, he continued, emphasizing every word that he was saying, "It means that Harry is finally starting to believe…It means that he is finally and firmly on the path which may take him to the ancient powers that he can get."

With this, Dumbledore looked at both the professors. But by the looks on their faces, it was clear that neither of them understood what he meant.

_What You Can Expect Next: _

_ I was caught up in the latest attack, so I could not include the other things I promised in this chapter. I think I will pass this section this time, and see what Chapter 6 brings along with it. Anyway, as far as the main plot is there, I will be borrowing a certain concept about wizards from the Lord of the Rings book. But, I must make it clear that this fic is in no way, a crossover. Besides, I also need a beta reader. So please inform me if everyone is interested. The next update by June 26th._

_Author's Note:_

_I told you I would tell you if yesterday went well. Well, did it go off well? It was the day that my high school results were announced and before you scorn at that or anything, I must tell you that in the country that I live, it is the first important step in your career and a very big thing indeed. I got a very satisfying result and in case you are interested, I will admit that I came 20th from among two million students who appeared for the exam this time around._

_I have decided to do two chapters a week from now on and I think that this fic could have anything between 22-27 chapters. So I will leave the calculations to you now. Please read and review. And yes, if someone is interested, I would really like a beta reader. Although that may delay the uploading by one day, I think it would be well if someone reviewed my work first, since English isn't my mother tongue or the language which I speak with the people around me._


	6. The Sign of the Raven

**Chapter Six  
The Sign of the Raven  
**  
Harry and Hermione fell asleep in each other's arms that night as they waited for Ron to awake. Ron had been placed in the room that Harry had been sleeping in since he had arrived there at Hermione's house. It was quite a crowd. All the Weasleys were there, alongwith Nick and Lupin. Tonks, meanwhile, had excused herself from the scene, saying that she had been given an urgent assignment by the Ministry. Kingsley had dropped by at about midnight and exchanged a few words with Lupin and Mr Weasley, after taking them into a corner.  
  
They had waited well into the night. The room was too cluttered with so many people in there. So, Mrs Weasley, after about an hour had passed, ordered every one of her children to go back to Grimmauld Place. She stayed behind, as did Mr Weasley. Before sending them away alongwith Lupin (who seemed to be really tired. Harry remembered that it would be full moon the next day, so obviously Lupin would have to go into hiding for the next three or four days), Mrs Weasley had sent a strict warning to Bill, "Look after them well and don't let them wander about." Harry could have laughed about it in ordinary circumstances since it was obvious that Mrs Weasley had forgotten that the only underage wizard or witch among her children was her fifteen-year old daughter, Ginny. However, with what had happened to her youngest son – the will-be-of-age-in-less-than-a-year Ron, Harry couldn't blame her or even smile at her seemingly silly orders.  
  
Nick had decided that Ron was too weak to use the counter-spell on him. So he'd wake him up from his sleep in the morning. No one bothered to argue with him. They knew that it would be best if they followed the Healer's orders. Even Mrs Weasley didn't ask him even once to reconsider his decision. Harry was glad though, that she didn't cry or sob, she merely looked dejected, as if she was to blame for Ron's current condition. But one thing was clear – she knew that Ron was going to be okay; the only thing that worried her was how okay he was going to be.  
  
Seeing that they would have to wait the whole night for this, Mr Weasley had asked everyone to go to bed. But no one budged. So, he conjured up a sofa in one side of the room. It was the one that Harry and Hermione sat on and later fell asleep in. Mrs Weasley was sitting on a chair near Ron's bed. Her husband conjured up another chair beside his wife's and taking her hand in his, tried to console her.  
  
It had been a long day for both Harry and Hermione, especially for Harry, whose body had felt like water after his encounter with the Death Eaters. They tried to keep awake for sometime, but their exhaustion soon got the better of them and they fell asleep about an hour after midnight.  
  
Harry was the first one to wake in the morning. He still had his glasses on and so was quite stunned when he opened his eyes to see a clear world. It was then that he realized where he was. He looked instinctively at Hermione who had her arms around his waist and her head on his shoulders. She looked so peaceful, so innocent and so stunningly beautiful that Harry had to resist the sudden urge to wake her up with a kiss. She had never seemed so attractive before, and it took Harry every ounce of willpower that he possessed to resist the thought and tear himself and his mind away from her and onto Ron.  
  
Harry found that Nick was standing near Ron's bed, examining his condition as he pointed his wand at Ron's prostrate body. He turned to Mr Weasley who was standing nearby, "I think we should be able to make him conscious again within the next hour."  
  
Harry was relieved to hear this. He gently shook Hermione and woke her up.  
  
She woke up in an instant but he could tell that she was still sleepy.  
  
"Good morning, Harry," she said as she stretched out her arms.  
  
Suddenly she remembered what had happened the previous night and asked, "Ron, is he okay?"  
  
Nick seemed to hear this question and he turned around to answer it, "Hermione, you will definitely be glad to know that your friend is going to wake within the next hour."  
  
"That means you are going to use 'Enervate' on him," she asked.  
  
Nick nodded. He said, "Yes, he was too weak to be able to face any magic yesterday. But it seems that he has gained back some of his strength in the last eight hours. I am just waiting for Molly to arrive before using the spell on him."  
  
"Why? Where is Mrs Weasley?" Harry asked.  
  
At this, Mr Weasley replied, "She has gone back to Headquarters just to check on the others. She will be back in about fifteen or twenty minutes."  
  
Both Harry and Hermione nodded. They went out of the room to freshen up. When they came back to the room where Ron was, they found that Mrs Weasley had already arrived and Ron was sitting up on his bed, talking to Nick.  
  
Mrs Weasley was scolding him, "WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU THINK WHEN YOU LEFT HEADQUARTERS WITHOUT A WORD TO ANYONE? AND KNOWING HOW DANGEROUS IT IS...IN THESE TIMES...YOU'D THINK WE HAD PUT SOME SENSE INTO YOU WHEN WE TOLD YOU THAT NO ONE WAS GOING TO LEAVE THE PLACE..."  
  
On and on she went, as Ron listened, his face growing more and more scarlet as time went by. But no one, not even Ron, argued with her. They all knew how worried she always was about her children (and Harry, whom she regarded as one of her sons). They knew it was her way of letting go of her worry and expressing relief.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Mr Weasley cleared his throat and said, "Molly, I think we can talk about this later."  
  
His wife nodded but she glared at her youngest son.  
  
Mr Weasley, however, continued, "I think I will proceed to work now. Molly, you can fix something up for breakfast for everyone."  
  
Nick nodded at this and said, "Good suggestion, Arthur. Harry, I think I need you to come with me for just a moment." He walked towards Harry as he said this and then added to him in an undertone so that no one could hear, "Dumbledore wants to know about the attack."  
  
So, everyone went out of the room, to do the job that was assigned to each of them. Everyone, that is except, Ron and Hermione.  
  
As everyone exited the room, Hermione too, tried to follow them, but Ron called out to her.  
  
"Hermione, can we talk?" he asked.  
  
Hermione didn't want to talk at all, least of all to Ron, at the moment. But she couldn't help it. She nodded and sat down at the side of the bed. She remembered when she had been in this bed the last time, it was with Harry when they were sleeping side by side, wanting nothing more than a night's peaceful sleep.  
  
"Hermione, how've you been?" Ron asked.  
  
"How've I been?" she repeated softly and then laughed out aloud, "About as well as I can be with both of my parents in hospital, recovering from injuries that were caused just because their daughter happens to be friends with the nemesis of the Dark Lord."  
  
"So, you blame Harry for this. You know I'd have done the same and-" But Ron stopped seeing the look on Hermione's face. It was full of disgust and contempt.  
  
"Blame Harry?" Hermione said, "I thought you were his friend." Then she took her face as close to his as she could without actual physical contact. "You don't get it, do you?" Then she threw back her head and said, "I'd never blame Harry for any of this. This happened because I chose to be friends with him, and not because he allowed me to be his friend. I thought you would understand, but obviously you don't."  
  
Ron was shocked at this. He had expected Hermione to be angry at Harry, but obviously she wasn't. He gave a sigh of relief. So, there was no immediate danger to their friendship.  
  
He looked at Hermione and asked, "So, what have you been doing here?"  
  
Hermione replied, "You know, crying, going to the hospital, crying again, coming back to wonder what will happen, all that stuff."  
  
"There is no need to be sarcastic," Ron said.  
  
"Sarcastic, am I?" Hermione retorted. "And can you tell me what for you decided to come here without informing anyone? Imagine what could have happened. You could have been killed. After what happened to my parents, I'd think you would have enough sense in your mind."  
  
Hermione felt a strange surge of emotions in herself. She didn't want to talk to Ron, afraid that her love for Harry would come to the fore, that their friendship would be tainted for ever. So, she was acting so angrily with Ron. Ron, on his part, was confused. He didn't know why Hermione was acting like this.  
  
"So," Hermione began, "why did you try and come here?"  
  
"Er-" Ron began his reply, "I wanted to meet Harry and you. Especially you." He added in an undertone.  
  
"You wanted to meet us?" Hermione asked. "Do you think that gives you a good enough reason for risking your life?"  
  
"I think I could do without a lecture, you know," Ron replied. His temper was beginning to rise and he didn't think he could hold it off much longer. "I already got one from my mother. And what do you know about this? You have been here along with Harry all along. I've been the one who was alone."  
  
Hermione replied angrily, "You think I've been enjoying myself? You think watching your parents lying there helpless and lifeless with only the doctor's word that they are alive, you think that is easy. Do you think you could face that? Do you think I wanted that? I would gladly have had no company only if my parents were all right at the moment."  
  
Ron looked at her, open-mouthed. He couldn't understand the change that had come over her in the last month or so. It was as if she didn't want to be with him anymore. However, he realized nevertheless, that what he had said was horrible and he should apologise to her for the same.  
  
"Hermione," he said slowly, stressing every word and syllable, "I am sorry."  
  
"What?" she exclaimed. Of all the things that she had expected from Ron, 'I am sorry' wasn't one of them.  
  
"I said I am sorry," Ron repeated. "It's just that I like you very much and want to be with you. All the time."  
  
"Are you sure this is liking and not lust?" Hermione asked.  
  
"What do you mean? That I lust for you," Ron asked.  
  
"What I mean is that you treat me like a prize catch, and not like a normal person. You treat me as if you want to own my body, not be my soul mate. And that is why I say that you lust for me."  
  
"I don't," Ron replied, but he lacked conviction in his voice. In his heart of hearts, Ron knew that what Hermione said was true but he was too proud and straight-backed to acknowledge it.  
  
"Yes, you do," Hermione said, "You don't realise it Ron, but I am not who you are looking for. I don't want someone pining and drooling over me, I want someone who loves me and I am quite sure that I have found that person. I am quite sure that I have found my true love."  
  
Even as she said this, Hermione regretted it. The very thing that she didn't want to tell Ron was what she had said. Okay, so she didn't say Harry's name but she knew Ron. He would nag her to death until she told him who it was.  
  
"So," Ron said, "I was right all along. There is somebody else."  
  
"Yes," Hermione replied, realizing that there was no use backing down now. She bit her lip as she said, "There is someone and it is not you. That's for sure."  
  
"Who is it? Is it Krum?" Ron asked angrily.  
  
"No," replied Hermione. "And I would rather not tell you anything, not yet, not till I see my best friend back in you, not till I see this infatuated maniac been driven out of you."  
  
"Maniac, am I?" Ron roared. He quickly got up and went over to where Hermione. He gathered all his strength and slapped her hard on the cheek. Hermione sank down to the floor.  
  
"THAT IS WHAT YOU GET FOR REJECTING ME," Ron spat at her.  
  
At that very moment, Harry opened the door and saw Hermione sprawled on the floor, sobbing and Ron, standing over her obviously shouting. He ran over to Hermione and picked her up from the floor. He saw that a bruise was forming on her cheek.  
  
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?" Harry roared at Ron. He lifted Hermione and nestled her against his chest.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said weakly, "Get me out of here."  
  
"But Hermione-" Harry began.  
  
However, Hermione interrupted him, "Please Harry."  
  
Suddenly, a look of comprehension dawned on Ron's face. He saw his friends, arms locked together, Hermione taking Harry's support and leaning on his chest. It was obvious to him now.  
  
"It's you," he began, "IT'S YOU, ISN'T IT?"  
  
"What?" Harry asked. He didn't know all that had happened before he had arrived at the scene.  
  
"SHE LOVES YOU, DOESN'T SHE?" Ron roared. "IT'S SICK. YOU ARE BOTH SICK."  
  
"I can't believe from what you are saying that it is you, Ron," Harry said, catching on with what was happening. "Come Hermione, I think we should get out of here."  
  
With that he took Hermione by hand, and took her out of the room, shutting the door behind them. As the door closed, Ron lifted a book from the nearby table and threw it against the door. With that he collapsed to the floor and leant against the desk that was there. He took his head in his hands and began muttering, "What have I just done?"  
  
Nick had called Harry from Ron's room since Dumbledore had made it clear he wanted to talk to him. Harry had gotten quite used to the fact that he had seen Dumbledore so many times in the past days, especially since the circumstances warranted for that to happen. He still trusted him, even after Sirius' death. Although he had reflexively thought that he could not trust Dumbledore anymore, he came to realize that he was still, the only person he could trust fully, except perhaps Hermione and Ron.  
  
Nick had taken Harry down to the living room and handed him an old newspaper. Harry understood what it was. As soon as he touched the newspaper portkey, he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel that told that the magical transport was working and soon, he found himself on the floor of Dumbledore's office.  
  
The last time that Harry had been in this room was at the time of Sirius' death. He had ruined the whole room, destroying almost everything that he could lay his hands on. Although the office looked as if nothing ha disturbed it for years, Harry knew better. Some of the strange instruments that he had destroyed were no longer there.  
  
Harry went over to one of the walls behind Dumbledore's desk. The portraits of all the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts were hung on those walls. Harry could see all the portraits looking at him and pointing his way, but he didn't care at the moment. His gaze was drawn by the portrait of Phineas Nigellus – a great great grandfather of his beloved godfather.  
  
Harry called out to Phineas' portrait, not sure how he should address him. Finally he decided that Professor Nigellus would be the best option. So he called out, "Professor Nigellus?"  
  
The man in the portrait seemed to have been sleeping. However, when Harry called out to him, he woke up. He looked around and seeing that it was Harry who had called him, settled down with a 'hmph...'  
  
"Professor Nigellus?" Harry said. "Are you all right?"  
  
Phineas replied, "Well, seeing that my worthless great great grandson was very dear to you and you have quite recovered from the shock of his death, I would think that I would be well myself." With that, he moved out of his portrait. But Harry did not see him reappear in any other of the portraits adjacent to his own. He suspected that he had gone back to Grimmauld Place.  
  
Harry knew that Phineas was lying. He loved Sirius, even though he denied it wholeheartedly, even if it was for the fact that he had been the last person in the line of his family. He knew that he had grieved over Sirius' death, even if it was a conjecture from the way he had reacted on hearing of Sirius' death. In a way, Harry felt, that Phineas' condition had been just like him (except for the self-imposed guilt that it was he who was to blame for Sirius' fate). He too, had lost one of his family, and like Harry he had been devastated by this, even though his devastated form was only a portrait and not his actual self.  
  
"I see that you have been trying to talk to Phineas, Harry," came the voice of Dumbledore from behind him. Harry turned around to see Dumbledore walking calmly towards him. He nodded at the Headmaster who acknowledged this with a nod of his head.  
  
He continued, "Phineas hasn't been the same ever since Sirius died. He has been quiet, very quiet and even his sarcasm doesn't sting anyone anymore. It's like he has lost all hope. It's like he has forgotten that he is dead and maybe, with Sirius at this very moment."  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.  
  
"Wizard portraits, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "are only an imprint of those who are dead. These wizards are those, who choose the path of death for themselves, but in their hearts, they are the ones who also want to leave behind their imprint on this world, an impression of themselves, so that the world might remember them when the time comes."  
  
"Like ghosts?" Harry asked breathlessly.  
  
"A bit like ghosts," Dumbledore replied, "But very much unlike them. The owners of magical portraits have long passed into the Realm of the Dead. They don't know what goes on there, they only know what concerns them, what the presents holds, what the present asks of them."  
  
"You mean that the real Phineas might be with Sirius' spirit at this very moment?" Harry asked Dumbledore again.  
  
"Yes, he might be," Dumbledore replied patiently, "He might be, for all we know, or he might not. I do not know what goes on in the Realm of the Dead, and neither does anybody on this planet. Our business is only with the present, with our time and we cannot concern ourselves with what goes on in worlds that are beyond our own. Of course, we may think and imagine, what we may never know the truth. Not until we ourselves die.  
  
"Don't you see this, Harry? Don't you realize now why death is but the next great adventure. It is because it is a mystery. The enigma that is attached to the phenomenon of death is what makes us all take this path. Yes, Harry, death is a path which all of us, must take, it is a path which marks the end of a life time and a beginning of another. That is why we must not let death cloud our thoughts. That is why we must live around death, because it is inevitable. Because life without death, is unimaginable."  
  
"You are talking about Sirius, aren't you?" Harry asked.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I am. Sirius died, not because of your fault, Harry. I said this that night, and I will say this again, please do not hold yourself responsible for Sirius' death. If you do that, all you will get is pain and nothing else. It is time, Harry, that you look past what happened and start living your life."  
  
Harry turned around and looked away from Dumbledore. He said, with anger rising in his voice, "I don't want to talk about it, okay. It's bad enough when I get lectured by Hermione on this. I don't want you to touch upon this as well."  
  
"Miss Granger is right, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, "You have to accept Sirius' death. You have to realize that Sirius' death has affected all those who knew him and hence, it is difficult for all of us to accept the fact that we will never see him again. However, it is necessary that we accept this fact, for acceptance is the first step to recovery."  
  
"You think I am a nut, is it?" Harry asked angrily.  
  
"I never said that you are insane-" Dumbledore replied, but Harry interrupted him.  
  
"Oh, is that so?" he said angrily, "That's why everyone tries to get me into accepting the fact that Sirius is dead, that Sirius died because of my fault. That's what everyone implies."  
  
"No one implies that this is your fault, Harry," Dumbledore said, "It is you who have withdrawn into a shell. It is you who have put this blame upon yourself. And remember this, Harry, it is you who has to accept the truth that it is otherwise. That is what everyone is trying to tell you. You have to accept this, because as I said, acceptance..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Harry said grudgingly, desperately wanting to change the topic then and there, "I heard it, acceptance is the first step to recovery. Anyway, was this why you called me here? Because if it is, I don't see how this has benefited both of us, or the Order for that matter."  
  
Harry turned around and looked Dumbledore straight in the eye. His emerald green eyes were fixed onto the gaze of Dumbledore's blue eyes, as if daring him to pursue the topic further. He knew it was of no use, Dumbledore was too powerful, he didn't mind these actions; but at the same time, Harry thought, let him get it how I feel that he betrayed me, how he shouldn't be talking to me about Sirius like this.  
  
Dumbledore turned his eyes away from Harry's and sighed. He said, "The reason why I called you here, Harry, is the attack that occurred last night."  
  
"Huh?" Harry asked. He did not know what Dumbledore meant. He would have guessed that either Lupin, Tonks or Nick would have informed Dumbledore about all this.  
  
"I need to know," Dumbledore said, stressing upon every word that he spoke, "what happened last night, from your perspective."  
  
Harry did not feel that it would be good to hide anything that happened last night from Dumbledore. After all, maybe Dumbledore had not been honest with him, but Harry knew well that he was the only one who he could trust in the war, he was the only person who could be trusted to lead them into the growing darkness.  
  
So, he recounted everything to him, right from how he felt that the Death Eaters weren't real, just an illusion, how he had tried to remove them from the scene with the help of his mind, how he'd seen them collapse to the ground...  
  
Just as Harry reached the part about seeing Ron's prostrate body on the ground, Dumbledore stopped him and said, "Very well, that's all I needed to know from you."  
  
Harry looked at his Headmaster uncertainly. He now felt sure that Dumbledore wanted to interrogate him about how he had dealt with the attackers. (Not that it would take Hermione's intelligence to decipher all this)  
  
"Professor," Harry said slowly, "I believe now that you wanted to know about how the attack was thwarted."  
  
Dumbledore nodded but did not say anything. However, Harry could see that he was listening very intently to whatever he was saying.  
  
"So," Harry continued, "could you just tell me what I did then?"  
  
"I don't understand-" Dumbledore began. Harry felt unsure now. He had never heard Dumbledore say 'I don't know' before this and now here he was saying the very same thing that Harry had hoped he'd never hear from his Headmaster.  
  
"I mean," Harry said, "do you know why I did what I actually did then?"  
  
As soon as he heard this, Harry knew it was an absurd question, but he was surprised when he saw Dumbledore nodding. So, at least, Dumbledore had understood him clearly this time.  
  
"You used your mind, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "And that's how you performed wandless magic."  
  
Harry was speechless. He never knew he could perform wandless magic. It had been more like accidental magic on previous occasions. But wandless magic? Definitely not. He couldn't have done magic without a wand. Of all the wizards that he knew, only Dumbledore could do so. Maybe Voldemort could do it as well, but Harry had never seen him do that. (Not that he would like to, Harry shuddered as he thought this.)  
  
"I-I," he stuttered, "c-can perform wandless magic?"  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "It does seem so. You know Harry, what the function of a wand is?"  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"I told you once," Dumbledore continued, "that magic is all about the mind. All your magical powers reside here, in your mind. A wand is just a means of channelling this magical energy that your mind possesses and using it the physical world, in the real world. However, there are certain wizards, who have so much power, so much magical energy in them, that they can use this energy even without a wand. That is why you could perform wandless magic. Because you have the gift...Because you have the power."  
  
"But why couldn't I know of this earlier?" Harry asked.  
  
"Wandless magic, Harry," said Dumbledore, "is a very rare gift. It can be learnt, yes, to some extent, but it does still require a powerful bit of magic behind the wizard or witch who uses it. This gift is very much similar to the gift of being a Metamorphmagus, only it is even rarer."  
  
"And I have this gift?" Harry asked slowly, getting submerged in thoughts even as he found his voice choking with surprise.  
  
"Yes, you do," Dumbledore affirmed. "Unlike the ability of being a Metamorphmagus, the ability to perform wandless magic manifests itself comparatively later in a wizard's life. It manifests itself only when the wizard or witch in question gets rid of his insecurities and inhibitions and starts feeling confident about his or her own abilities."  
  
"But I don't really have that confidence, not even in myself, let alone in my abilities," Harry reasoned.  
  
"Then something must have happened in the last few days which has changed...or rather at least started to change all that. Could you think of something that might have happened on these lines?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Harry's face wore that same contorted expression that he wore on his countenance every time he tried to think or concentrate on a particularly difficult question. Then he got it. The answer was there, right before him.  
  
"Hermione!" he exclaimed loudly and then realizing what he had just said, he groaned loudly. He began blushing very furiously. Dumbledore, clearly, noticed all this.  
  
"I assume then that you might have found the reason," he said, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Very well then," Dumbledore continued, "You must be wondering why I am telling you all this, especially at this moment?" Harry nodded again He obviously wanted to know the answer.  
  
"I am telling you this because you need to know," Dumbledore said, rather cryptically, "You need to have confidence in yourself, and faith. You need to work on your powers so that you become more adept at using them; and above all, you need to be careful."  
  
"Careful? That's what I have been since day one, haven't I?" Harry argued.  
  
"Not exactly," Dumbledore said with a light chuckle, "The things that you have done since joining the magical world...No, I think they would hardly be called the actions of a careful wizard...But anyway, we are not here to argue about all that you have done in the past five years. What I have to tell you is very important and you have to listen carefully."  
  
"I am all ears," Harry told him.  
  
Dumbledore began, "Performing wandless magic not only requires great magical strength, Harry, but it also requires great physical strength. When you are not using your wand, the strength that is required for you to initiate a spell is far greater than it is otherwise. That is why it surprises me when I hear that you stunned five Death Eaters, in one go, using your ability and yet nothing happened to you; you didn't even get tired."  
  
"Well I was a bit tired," Harry said, "But you say that the fact that nothing happened to me is a bad thing."  
  
"It is not a bad thing," Dumbledore said, "but it is very interesting indeed. Most wizards cannot even do a simple levitating spell without a wand. And here you are – you not only did five stunning spells without your wand, but your physical strength remained almost the same even after that. This means that you have this gift, in fact, it is far stronger than anybody's ability."  
  
"So what am I supposed to do?" Harry asked.  
  
"Nothing," Dumbledore replied, "For the time being, it is enough that you know what ability you have. Let it take its natural course. You will soon learn to control your gifts at your own will, and then...who knows. Anyway, it is not our job to look so far ahead of us."  
  
Harry nodded. "Is that all you wanted to say to me?" he asked, his head swimming with all the information that he had just received.  
  
"Actually," Dumbledore replied, "There is one more thing."  
  
"What?" Harry asked, almost involuntarily.  
  
"It's about the attackers," Dumbledore said, "You tell me that you believed they weren't Death Eaters."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Do you know why?"  
  
Harry shook his head. His heart got caught in his throat as he wondered what Dumbledore was going to reveal now.  
  
"Why don't you try and reason it out!" Dumbledore suggested.  
  
Harry started thinking. He was sure that he could almost hear the whirring sound of the wheels in his brain as he thought hard and long.  
  
"Maybe because they weren't really Death Eaters," Harry said finally.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "They weren't real Death Eaters. They didn't have the Dark Mark on their arms. And what's more, they weren't even wizards."  
  
Harry gasped at the latest revelation. "What?" he sputtered, wondering if he had heard Dumbledore's words correctly.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, these attackers weren't even wizards. At least, they weren't wizards that we know of. My belief is that they were plain and simple Muggles, kidnapped maybe, from different parts of Britain."  
  
"But Professor," Harry reasoned, "How could they use magic if they were Muggles?"  
  
"There are certain potions, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "which use Dark Magic to convert even ordinary Muggles into wizards. They are strong potions that seduce the mind and give the drinker of the potion enough strength to believe what he is made to believe. Personally, I think that the Death Eaters gave them such potions, so that they got the ability of wizards for a brief time interval."  
  
"I didn't know that could happen," Harry said, shocked at what Dumbledore just told him.  
  
"It is one of the secrets that the Ministry and those who know about it keep from everyone," Dumbledore said. "Otherwise, it would make the work of Dark wizards easier than ever. However, it seems that Lord Voldemort has found out about this, or he has finally put his knowledge in this matter to use. But the interesting thing is that he did give these Muggle attackers a sign."  
  
"What sign?" Harry asked.  
  
"The sign of a raven," Dumbledore replied. With that, he waved his wand and a slow mist emanated from the tip of his wand. Soon, Harry could see the sign of a raven, wide-eyed and aware, sitting on top of a dead branch.  
  
"The raven," Dumbledore spoke, "is a symbol of hopelessness, of impending disaster and we can safely say that Lord Voldemort plans for all that to happen in the future."  
  
"Then this is just a threat?" Harry asked faintly.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "But it is a threat that cannot be taken lightly, for this signals the first rumble of this war that we are being drawn into."  
  
"So what should we do?" Harry asked.  
  
"We...we do nothing," Dumbledore replied. "All we can do is to keep doing what we are supposed to and exercise 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE' while hoping that nothing happens."  
  
"Professor, can I ask you something?" Harry asked, tentatively.  
  
"Only one question, Harry. I'm afraid that it will be time for you to go back after that," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"Do we have any idea regarding what Voldemort is up to?" he asked.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry. And that's what worries me. This time, Voldemort is keeping all the cards close to his chest. I doubt if even his closest followers know of his plans. But one thing is certain, his plans are still far from ripe. I believe that he is setting the initial part into motion, what with these attacks and all, but I still have reason to say for sure that it will be some time before he rolls out his masterstroke, with which he plans to destroy you, the Order, the Ministry and all that we have worked so hard upon to establish peace and order in the wizarding world. I am afraid that this is going to be the end of the wizarding world as we know it. War is brewing, soon it will begin on a massive scale, and after it ends, the world as we know it, the world as we created it, will change...for good or for bad...either way this ends."  
  
With that, Dumbledore held out the newspaper for Harry to take in his hands and began counting, "THREE...TWO...ONE...ZERO"  
  
With that, Harry felt the jerk behind his navel and found himself on the floor of the Grangers' living room within an instant.  
  
Harry took Hermione with him, downstairs and into the living room. He sat him down as she sobbed. He tried to calm her down but to no avail. He couldn't help but think that the developing bruise on her cheek was something to do with Ron, and he swore that in case it were so, he would make the redhead pay for what he had done.  
  
He saw that Hermione wouldn't stop crying, so he took out two envelope that had been in his pocket for some time now. He gave Hermione the envelope with her name on it and said softly, "Here is something that will cheer you up. Look, the school letters arrived a few minutes ago."  
  
Just as Harry had reached the Grangers' living room, he had found an owl (he recognised that as one of the school owls. It had given Harry two letters (both his and Hermione's) and flown off. Harry had been stunned for a few seconds. So, the OWL results are out, he had thought.  
  
He had thought about opening the letter but decided against it. He had felt that it would be proper to open it before Ron and Hermione. So, he had put both the letters and gone upstairs to search for his best friends. It was then that he had found Hermione and Ron in the guest room, obviously having a fight.  
  
Hermione was scanning through her letter at a speed that made Harry feel dizzy. She finished reading the letter and then looked at Harry with a very happy expression on her face.  
  
"Harry," she squealed with excitement, "I got eighteen OWLs."  
  
"Wow Hermione," Harry exclaimed, "That's brilliant. That is a school record, Hermione. Congratulations."  
  
With that, he hugged her. Mrs Weasley, hearing their excited squeals came up to ask what the matter was and was treated to the sight of Harry and Hermione in each others' arms.  
  
She cleared her throat. Harry and Hermione quickly let go of each other and smiled at her. "What is going on here?" she asked, "I heard excited voices from here."  
  
"Mrs Weasley," Harry said, "Hermione has got eighteen owls."  
  
Mrs Weasley looked at Hermione with wonder in her eyes and then walking upto her, she hugged her and congratulated her.  
  
"And what about you Harry?" she asked.  
  
Harry felt a dull sinking feeling in his stomach. He had never dreaded his OWL results. Actually, truth be told, he didn't have the time to worry about results, of all the things. Still, now that the letter was in his hands, he couldn't deny that he was feeling very nervous.  
  
He sighed and opened the seal of the letter. The first page was the usual letter-  
  
Dear Mr Potter,  
  
We are pleased to inform you that you have passed your O.W.L.s and are hereby admitted to sixth year at Hogwarts. Please note that the new term will start on September the First. Students can take the Hogwarts Express from Platform Nine and Three Quarters at the King's Cross Station at nine o'clock.  
  
The sixth years will not have classes till the second week of term, in which time, they have to choose the subjects that they wish to pursue for the N.E.W.T.s. Hence, the booklist for the year is not enclosed with the letter. Please note that further details on this matter will be given to you upon your return to Hogwarts.  
  
The transcript of your O.W.L. results are hereby enclosed with this letter.  
  
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
  
Harry turned over the letter and onto another piece of parchment that was attached. First of all it did not look like a parchment at all, but it was. It was the smoothest form of parchment that he had even seen. It was the transcript of his performance in the O.W.L.s. He realized that it must be like those certificates in the Muggle world which one had to keep carefully.  
  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDY  
  
It is hereby declared that Harry James Potter, has obtained TWELVE Ordinary Wizarding Levels in the examinations held by the Wizarding Examinations Authority, Ministry of Magic, Great Britain.  
  
Details of Performance:  
  
Transfiguration E 1 OWL Potions O 2 OWLS Charms O 2 OWLS Defense Against the Dark O 2 OWLS Arts Herbology E 1 OWL History of Magic A 1 OWL Astronomy A 1 OWL Divination D 0 OWLS Care of Magical Creatures O 2 OWLS   
  
Signed, Signed, Griselda Marchbanks, Albus Dumbledore, Chairman, Headmaster,  
Wizarding Examinations Authority  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and  
Wizardry  
  
"I-I," Harry stuttered, unable to believe that he had got twelve OWLs, "got twelve."  
  
"What?" Hermione asked, "Twelve?"  
  
Harry looked up at Hermione and Mrs Weasley, dazed. But he saw nothing as Hermione chose that very moment to fling herself at him and congratulate him. After Hermione, it was Mrs Weasley's turn. She hugged Harry and congratulated him. After that, she got up and said, "This warrants a celebration. But I am not sure if we can do it now. Maybe, we can do it back at Headquarters after you to arrive there. Anyway, Harry, mind if I borrow Hedwig? I will have to tell Arthur about this."  
  
Harry nodded. Mrs Weasley went off into the kitchen still bustling with happiness. Now, only Ron's performance remained to be seen.  
  
Hermione meanwhile collapsed onto the sofa and said, "Imagine that, twelve owls. You did really well, Harry. If I had to bet, I'd bet that you will be the Head Boy next year."  
  
"Well," Harry said, collapsing beside her, "I am not sure about that, but I am sure now that my girlfriend will be the Head Girl next year."  
  
Hermione blushed. Harry had never said that she was his girlfriend before this. He went near her and kissed her softly on the lips. But even as Harry's face came in contact with her cheek, she seemed to be in some pain. Harry drew back. He knew he had to ask her about what had happened between her and Ron.  
  
"Hermione," Harry asked, not wanting to dent her happiness but he knew he had to do it, he had to know what was going on, "are you okay?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione answered, but her eyes betrayed something else. The bruise that was on her cheek at the place where Ron had hit her was turning purple and she was obviously feeling the pain.  
  
"Hermione," Harry said, "look at me."  
  
She looked into his eyes and felt those emerald green orbs looking into the depths of her mind.  
  
"Tell me what happened there upstairs," he said.  
  
Hermione shook her head, "I don't think I can, Harry."  
  
"Fine," he said, "Tell me when you will want. But just answer this one question. Did Ron do this? (he brushed his hand lightly over the bruise on her cheek, but even then she felt some pain) Did Ron give you this?"  
  
Hermione didn't answer, but started sobbing once again. But Harry knew the answer now. He ran up to the guest room, and yanked the door open. Ron was sitting on the bed with his back to the door.  
  
"DO YOU THINK IT WAS VERY BRAVE OF YOU TO HIT YOUR BEST FRIEND, ESPECIALLY KNOWING THAT SHE IS A GIRL?" Harry shouted.  
  
Ron turned around. He decided to play innocent on this. He got up from the bed and said, "What are you on about?"  
  
"YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. I AM TALKING ABOUT WHAT YOU DID TO HERMIONE. I AM TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOU HIT HERMIONE," Harry answered not bothering to keep his voice down. Anger was coursing through each and every pigment of his body and he didn't want to tame that anger, no, not this time, not after what Ron had done.  
  
"What does this have to do with you?" Ron asked calmly. It was unnerving, the way he was keeping calm amidst all this. Normally, he would have started a shouting match with Harry in return but here he was keeping a dignified calmness while Harry was shouting at him for all he was worth.  
  
Harry was now exasperated at Ron's play-acting. He shook his head and said softly and disbelievingly, "What does this have to do with me? This has everything to do with me. She is my best friend, damn it!"  
  
"And?" Ron raised his eyebrows as Harry said this.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry retorted, trying to muster as much contempt in his voice as he could.  
  
"You are still only best friends?" Ron asked. "Do you expect me to believe such a blatant lie?"  
  
Harry was getting really hacked off now. This conversation was not going the way he had obviously wanted it to. He had expected to shout his head off at Ron while he did the same in return. But the way Ron was holding on, it was clear that he had the upper hand in this war of words.  
  
"Yes," Harry replied his voice oozing with sarcasm, "We are still best friends, inspite of being more than that at the same time. Unlike you, we know how to value old relationships as well as new."  
  
"You know she doesn't love you," Ron said in return, "and neither do you love her...Not like that."  
  
"Who?" Harry asked and almost as soon as he said this, he wished he hadn't. He didn't want to go into an argument about his relationship with Hermione, least of all with Ron. But he was being drawn into it and he felt that backing down would only mean that Ron had won.  
  
"Hermione." Ron replied calmly.  
  
"I think I'd rather not talk about our relationship with anyone, least of all with you," Harry retorted.  
  
"Why? Does the truth hurt?" It was a genuine taunt and Harry felt his hands getting clenched into fists involuntarily.  
  
"No one knows the truth, not even you," he replied, slowly and with as much contempt and hatred as he could muster.  
  
Ron was real glad that he was getting to Harry's nerves. 'This will show him,' he thought happily. Even though a portion of his mind told him that he was wrong to do this to his friends, that it was he who was in the wrong, and unknown part of his mind egged him on. It was as if he had no control over that part of his mind; it was as if he could not disobey his command...not even if he tried to.  
  
"Yes, I do," Ron put on a know-it-all voice as he said this and Harry suddenly had to fight the urge to hit him in the face, "You want to know why Hermione is trying to start a relationship with you."  
  
"I don't know why I am listening to this rubbish in the first place," Harry muttered to himself.  
  
"You are listening," Ron said, "because you believe this is the truth. You know that Hermione has started this only because she wants to repay you for being with her at a time when her whole world was turned upside down. You helped her through this as her friend, and she wanted to repay you with the only thing that you lacked, and that is love. She did this so that she wouldn't be in your debt."  
  
"This," Harry felt his temper rise to new heights as he said this, "is a blatant lie."  
  
"No, it isn't," Ron said, "You know this, you have felt this. Only you are afraid to acknowledge this. Believe me, Harry, I am your friend and Hermione's too. It is my job to look after both of you, to ensure that both of you are safe."  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry said, angrily.  
  
"What I mean," Ron replied slowly, "is that I intend to save Hermione from meeting the same fate as your parents, and Sirius."  
  
Harry couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe that this person standing before him and spitting venom with every word of his was his best friend.  
  
"Shut up," Harry told Ron.  
  
"It hurts," Ron said, "doesn't it? But it is true and that is why it hurts. Face it Harry. Every person who loved you, who cared for you, who was close to you; every person who was a family to you has ended up dead. I don't want Hermione to end up the same way. I don't want her to die because she just chose to be your girlfriend out of obligation."  
  
Harry lost control when he heard this. He marched up to Ron and took him by the collar. Even though Ron was taller and stronger than himself, he easily pushed himself into the nearby wall hard and taking his collar by his left hand, he pointed his wand right at Ron's face and said, "IF YOU HADN'T BEEN MY BEST FRIEND ONCE, I WOULD HAVE CURSED YOU WITH EVERY HEX I HAVE EVER KNOWN TILL NOW."  
  
Harry pinned Ron against the wall in the very same position for what seemed like ages. For the first time since this argument was started, Ron felt scared, really scared. The expression on Harry's face was pure fury. His eyes flashed with unadulterated anger and seemed to pierce right into his body. He felt needles pricking him everywhere as he looked into Harry's face, the face that was the mask of death.  
  
For one fleeting moment, Ron thought that Harry would really carry out his threat, but he was saved – saved by a voice that was calling out to them from downstairs.  
  
"HARRY! RON!" came Mrs Weasley's voice. "Come downstairs, breakfast is ready."  
  
As he heard that, Harry relaxed a bit. He had got an overwhelming sense of satisfaction seeing the panic on Ron's face. He let go of Ron, pulled back and said slowly, making sure that Ron heard every word of what he said (even though he had collapsed to the floor when Harry let go), "Our friendship is over...And if you try to go near Hermione, I will make sure that I carry out my threat."  
  
With that, he turned around and without so much as a look back at Ron, he walked out of the door and went downstairs.  
  
Meanwhile, Ron sat on the floor, in a pile. His head was throbbing wildly from where it had hit the wall. But he was preoccupied with the questions before him – what had come over Harry? And more importantly, what had come over him?  
  
Harry reached his room that night. He was feeling very tired, what with all that Dumbledore had told him, his fight with Ron, Ron's treatment of Hermione and the O.W.L. results, he didn't have any mental or physical strength remaining.  
  
Breakfast that morning had been a very quiet and tense affair. Ron shot several timid glances at him but Harry ignored them all. After breakfast, the two Weasleys had said goodbye and Flooed to the Headquarters. Mrs Weasley had noticed the uneasy tension between Ron and Harry, but she thought that they must have fought over some trivial matter and they would make up soon enough. She was still too excited over the number of OWLs that Harry and Hermione had received.  
  
After the Weasleys were gone, Nick had joined Harry and Hermione. He fixed up Hermione's swelling bruise in an instant. She had explained that she had tripped and fallen down the stairs. Harry felt that Nick didn't buy that, but was glad when he asked no questions.  
  
But avoiding Hermione was no easy matter. That evening, while they sat trying to make some headway into the enormous pile of vacation work before them, she confronted him and asked about his encounter with Ron. Harry could tell that she was so scared that she couldn't even say Ron's name properly. He felt a sudden rush of anger in the pit of his stomach, but ignored it.  
  
Harry put an arm around Hermione and caressing her back, said, "Don't worry about us, Herm."  
  
"But Harry," she had said, "I want to know."  
  
"Okay," Harry replied. "Then listen. Our friendship is over."  
  
A long and eerie ensued after Harry said this. Hermione's heart sank. She had hoped that this wouldn't be so bad. But it had proved to be. She knew how hard it would be for Harry to break his friendship with Ron, but she didn't pursue the matter further that evening, and Harry was thankful for that.  
  
Harry turned away from the door and took a tentative step towards the bed. However, he was at that precise moment, blinded by a searing pain in his head. Voldemort had struck, again.  
  
A vision appeared before his eye, even though he knew that his eyes were closed. He was torturing some people who were kneeling and writhing in pain before him, and curiously, he was enjoying the pain. It seemed that he lived off that pain. Yes, he was Voldemort. He was once again, inside the Dark Lord.  
  
Standing or rather, kneeling before him was Emmeline Vance. Harry recognised her as one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. She had been one of the members who had brought him to Grimmauld Place last year. But Harry was startled by the change in her appearance. She was no longer the blonde-haired stately looking witch who personified health and well- being. In fact, she looked a mere shadow of the person that she must have been once.  
  
Her hair was flying about wildly, her eyes were shrunken and looked haunting. But they lacked one thing – they lacked fear. Her wand was in her hand but before Voldemort, she did not stand a chance. He felt Voldemort raising his wand and say the deadly spell.  
  
"AVADA KEDAVRA!!!"  
  
And with that as he felt Emmeline Vance's body drop to the floor without so much as a moan escaping from her lips, Harry screamed with pain. He vaguely heard someone come up to lift him up and take him somewhere so that he could lay down.  
  
But even in the turmoil and the pain in his scar which meant that Emmeline wasn't the only one Voldemort was torturing, Harry couldn't help but think –  
  
The Order of the Phoenix had lost its second member in as many months.  
  
_What You Can Expect Next:  
The next chapter will finally contain their return to Diagon Alley and consequently to Hogwarts. The Opening Feast will be there, as will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teachers (Any suggestions about the name?) It will be a chapter where I would like things to cool off a little bit, especially after so much drama at the beginning of the year, but I cannot guarantee that. Next update by July 7th.  
  
Author's Note:  
Sorry about the delay but my ISP is real lousy and the connectivity has been nil for the past three days. Anyway, this was a huge chapter and I really enjoyed writing that. Hope you will enjoy reading it as well. If you do, please review, and even if you don't enjoy, please review. There is nothing better than constructive criticism, as my mother says.  
  
As far as some questions regarding this being a H/Hr fic, I cannot guarantee you about that. For one, have you, till now, heard Harry say that he loves Hermione. Wel, watch out for that one, because it may or may not spring some surprises.  
  
Anyway, I feel I need a beta reader, so please give me suggestions regarding the same. Also, I feel that I am giving Dumbledore a lot of footage (in cinema terms). I really would like your comments on that. So, till the 7th of July, bye from me. (Remember to please read and review)_


	7. Getting Back to Normal

_Author's note:  
It isn't really in my style to start off with Author's note but it is necessary here. I have decide here to attach Chapter Eight and Chapter Seven together (since they share the same flow of events). So I am modifying this chapter. Besides, the visit to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes will also be chronicled. But that update might take upto Thursday. Hope you enjoy this, and don't forget to review.  
  
_

**Chapter Seven  
Getting Back to Normal  
**  
Harry wanted to inform the Order of Emmeline Vance's murder immediately. He tried to get up from the floor, where he had involuntarily ended up sometime during the vision. But he found that he could not do so. He was tired, no that wasn't the right word, he was exhausted. Before he could try to get up one more time or call out to someone or even think about what he had to do, he found himself dropping back to bed and passing into a deep, dreamless slumber.  
  
Harry did not hear as two hurried pair of feet entered the room and knelt down beside him. He did not know that those two persons were Lupin and Hermione. He did not hear Lupin cast the 'Mobilicorpus' charm on him and transfer him to the bed. He did not feel Hermione's touch as she grasped his hand and willed him to wake up. He was trapped in dreamland, only his dreams were all filled with an unknown emptiness.  
  
It was nearly an hour before Lupin and Hermione succeeded in waking Harry up. He looked around, with a dazed look on his face as he tried to ascertain what was happening.  
  
Suddenly, the vision that he had earlier in the night came to Harry's mind. He got up quickly and said in a hoarse voice, "Voldemort! Voldemort killed her!"  
  
"Who, Harry?" Lupin asked him, with a concerned look on his face.  
  
"Emmeline...Emmeline Vance."  
  
"What? Are you sure?" Lupin asked him again.  
  
Harry nodded. Lupin looked at him for a brief second while he decided what to do. He said, "I will just inform the Order about this. You two, try to get some rest."  
  
With that he went out of the door and disappeared downstairs. They could hear some sounds coming, as if a conversation was going on. After some time, Lupin came back up only to see Harry sleeping in his bed, while Hermione sat beside him.  
  
Seeing Lupin, Hermione got up and asked, "What happened?"  
  
"I informed the Headquarters about what Harry just said," he replied, "They are going over to check on Emmeline."  
  
"What if this is true?" Hermione asked, with fear in her eyes.  
  
"I don't know. I can't think about this," Lupin replied, with his brows furrowed. "I mean I don't think even Dumbledore counted on Voldemort springing to action so quickly. I think this may mean that the war is now days away from beginning."  
  
"What do you mean – the war?" Hermione asked him again, "That's what all of us have been engaged in the last year or so."  
  
"No," Lupin said, "That was just a prelude, I think. I am sure that the real war is going to start now. And not just with unexplained disappearances or massacres or things like that, I think maybe Voldemort has decided to come out openly."  
  
"In that case, we have to be careful," Hermione said, worry clouding her hazel eyes.  
  
"Yes," Lupin said, "We always have to be careful, but I think you don't need to worry about this, just yet. All of you will be safe at Hogwarts. You know, it is the safest place there is."  
  
"And the last place you would expect Voldemort to attack," Hermione continued from where Lupin had left off, "and hence, probably the place we should expect him to attack first."  
  
"Now, now Hermione," Lupin said, "I know you are worried, but that's no need to become paranoid like Moody. I think you just need some rest. I would advise you to go back to your room and get some sleep."  
  
Hermione nodded as Lupin turned and made his way back downstairs, into the living room. She knew he would stay there the entire night, keeping vigil, trying to listen out for anything that might be out of the normal.  
  
Hermione considered going back to her room, but she decided against it. She went to where Harry was sleeping and snuggled into the bed along with him. Just as she entered the bed, Harry rolled about onto his side and pulled her in tightly against him. The last thought that she had in mind before she fell asleep was how warm Harry's body felt against hers.  
  
Ron rolled about in his bed that night, thinking about what had happened earlier at Hermione's house. He was carrying out an impromptu synopsis of all that was going on in his head. Normally, it was not in his nature to analyse anything. Those things were best left for Hermione, but now, at this time, he couldn't help it. He was confused, and that was saying a lot, considering that Prefect duties, Quidditch practice, homework and all such things always confused him at school.  
  
But as he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking out everything, Ron didn't want to think about all that. All that he thought about was what was going on. What was happening? How did things end up like this? He had no idea, but he had resolved to find that out, before the night was over.  
  
Ron thought about all that he had shared with Harry and Hermione over the past five years. These years had been the best of his life as far as he could remember. He had not been like Harry, who had never had friends or shared his feeling with anyone in the ten years before he had come to Hogwarts. He had not even been lonely as the only child of his parents like Hermione was. He had a perfect childhood - lots of siblings, loving parents and a very happy family indeed. But somehow, the last five years, they were different.  
  
He could not explain it. Maybe, it was because he had grown out of the shadows of his brothers and found for himself that niche, he had always sought. Maybe it was because he got two of the best friends that anyone could ever dream of in his life. Maybe it was because his friends accepted him for what he was, instead of ranting about the legacy that his elder brothers had left for him to try and emulate. Whatever, be the reason, Ron was sure that he could not imagine his life without the presence of either Harry or Hermione.  
  
That brought him back to the present question, "How did things get to this?"  
  
Ron knew that he should be happy today, especially after what had happened after he had come back to Grimmauld Place. His Hogwarts letter had come that day, and Ron found that he had received 9 OWLs. Okay, so that was only half of what Hermione had got, and even three less than the number Harry had managed to secure, but at least his performance was far better than the three OWLs secured by the twins. But more than the exam results, he was flattered by another note that accompanied the envelope. It read-  
  
Dear Mr Weasley,  
  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been appointed Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor house for this year. We hope that you will take serious regard of your responsibilities as Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.  
  
Team Trials will start in the second week of term. We hope that you can take your Quidditch team to new heights after this appointment.  
  
Sincerely yours, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
Ron had never stopped to wonder why he had been appointed Quidditch captain instead of Harry. After all, he had been on the team for only one year and Harry had been on the team ever since his first year at Hogwarts, and was the youngest player to play for a Hogwarts Quidditch team in hundred years.  
  
He had only taken in this news with glee as he gloated on the fact that he had been made Captain ahead of Harry, just like he had been made a Prefect last year. This gave him more fuel to add to the fire that was raging inside of him, as he thought of the argument they had earlier in the morning.  
  
However, that night all these seemingly small things caught up with him. He was thinking, thinking as he had never thought before. He wondered why Hermione had chosen Harry over him, especially since Harry never had shown any interest in her, at least not in public. Then maybe, there was something in the name 'Harry Potter' or the title 'The Boy Who Lived' that added charisma to his persona.  
  
Ron couldn't understand. Even though he was brought up in such a large family, even he couldn't deny that emotions were something that he did not understand and sensitivity was something that could not be associated with him. But he still tried his best to fathom the current situation.  
  
He was shocked at what he had said to Harry, at what he had done to Hermione. He was ashamed of what he had done, but somewhere in his mind, some unknown feeling, (he put it down to his own pride) prevented him from admitting it. He thought about it, and concluded that it was his feeling that he was better than Harry. But then, he obviously was. He had been made a prefect when Harry hadn't. He had been made Quidditch captain when Harry hadn't. In fact, as far as he could remember, every time when the choice was between him and Harry, he had been chosen as the one. Except by Hermione, which confused him even more than ever.  
  
In the end, Ron resolved to mend his friendship with his two best friends. He realized that his life at Hogwarts wouldn't be worth it, if he did not have them in his life. And then maybe, things would not work out between the two of them, and he might still have a chance to win Hermione back. With that thought, he saw a flicker of hope in the surrounding darkness and drifted off to sleep.  
  
The next few days passed in a pleasant blur for Harry. That morning, he had woken up to a handful of curly, light brown hair in his face. Hermione's face was inches from his own as she slept soundly, never once getting disturbed in her sleep. Harry had watched her for a long time, with the dazed and blissful look of watching an angel. And truth be told, she did look like an angel, especially since all her innocence and raw beauty came to the fore as she slept with a peaceful and contented expression on her face. Her parents were getting better with every passing moment; she had a boyfriend who happened to be her best friend, who cared for her a lot and who undoubtedly was the 'love of her life'; she had scored eighteen OWLs – things were definitely starting to look up for her.  
  
Hermione had taken to snuggling into bed with Harry each night. They did not have a physical relationship, not yet, although both of them would have admitted that such an occurrence was impossible in the circumstances that prevailed. However, despite all this, both of them had silently agreed not to make a move until they were ready, until both of them were ready. Harry, for his part, was still not sure if he loved Hermione completely in that way, and even if he did, he didn't want to leave her with something as unforgettable as this, knowing very well that there may soon be a time when he may be dead. At the present, he was satisfied with the way their relationship was evolving slowly, based on trust and understanding and not just a sudden upsurge of hormones. He had come to look at Hermione in a different light over the last few days. Ordinarily, she would've been one to control her feelings and put on a brave face in the wake of everything that had happened, but now she was more open to him. She laughed and she cried (especially when Ron was mentioned – she was still scared of him, Harry thought). She was more easy-going than usual and although everything did not stop her from studying and all the 'Hermione' stuff that she did, Harry had to admit that she had somehow changed into a more relaxed and secure person, a person who he was, in all probability, beginning to love, more than as a friend.  
  
As far as Hermione was concerned, being the sensible person that she was, she had decided long back to wait until her marriage, even if that meant waiting for years together, for her to be physically intimate with someone. It was one of her unspoken principles, that she wanted to be with one person all her life, and no other. She had wanted her first experience to be special – she had wanted it to be both emotionally and physically satisfying and although she was sure she loved Harry and that he was the only one for her, she felt that she was not ready to take that big step which would change her life for ever – at least not for the time being.  
  
Their daily routine was pretty much the same – Hermione would visit her parents in the hospital (they were well and good but the Muggle doctor still insisted that they stay since he wanted to find out the reasons for this miracle discovery). Harry would always accompany her. Often, he would just sit in the waiting area, giving Hermione the time she needed to be alone with her parents. However, these times were not much because Bob and Julia Granger were always careful to include him in whatever they did with Hermione. Harry believed it was partly because of pity but he was still grateful for what they did.  
  
Harry found Hermione's parents very interesting and endearing. His father, Bob, loved to joke and laugh aloud. Meanwhile, her mother, Julia, was a bit more serious, yet he could tell that she loved a good laugh as well. They had this quality of making anyone feel like one of them and Harry was really glad for that. However, one thing did startle him quite a bit. Whenever Harry had met Bob and Julia Grangers, they came across as nervous and timid persons to him. But he could see now that it was in all probability due to a fear of the magical world.  
  
Days started to pass like this and soon, it was only a week before Harry and Hermione had to return to Hogwarts. Harry was glad that he was with Hermione, all this time, with everything that was going on. He believed that if it were not for his relationship with Hermione which was better than it had ever been and every day made it more wonderful still, it would have been for the fact that she had ensured that Harry too, like her, completed the school work well before time. She had even ordered some extra books regarding careers and was searching through them for something appropriate for her (and Harry).  
  
For the most part, while she worked on all this, Harry would watch her, fascinated at her dedication and concentration. He had begun loving the way she bit her lip as she turned pages of the book and the way her eyebrows contracted as she thought about something she'd read.  
  
It was the evening before the big day, when Hermione's parents would finally be discharged from hospital. Nick had jokingly told Harry the day before that he had to administer a Co-operating Potion to the doctor in charge of the Grangers' treatment so as to get him to let go of them.  
  
Hermione was poring over a certain book regarding Healers. (She had, since the last two days, begun to pay more attention to the Healing profession than all others.) Harry was looking at her dreamily.  
  
Suddenly Hermione looked up and saw Harry gazing at her.  
  
"What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious and wondering if there was something wrong with her appearance.  
  
"Nothing...," Harry began, but then with a smile on his face, continued, "It's just that...you are...you are so beautiful."  
  
Yes! He said it. He had wanted to say that so much for the last week or so, and he had finally said it.  
  
"You're just flattering me," Hermione said, with a blush, looking down into the floor.  
  
"No," Harry replied. "It's true...You're beautiful."  
  
After that, both went back to what they were doing earlier. After some time, Harry asked, "What are you going to take up when we get back to Hogwarts?"  
  
Hermione looked up and said, "I am beginning to think quite a lot about pursuing Healing. I have read this book and a few more, and I think it really appeals to me, you know, saving people's lives, watching the joy on their faces when they come to know that their loved ones are safe...Besides, when I didn't know about being a witch, I always imagined being a doctor when I grew up. So, I think its magical counterpart is not going to be that bad either."  
  
Harry leant closer to her as he tried to get a proper view of the page that she had been reading. He said, "Doesn't it require a three-year course after Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yes," she replied, "I even talked to Nick about this yesterday and he gave me some insider stuff on all that they teach. He said that the classes are conducted at St. Mungo's, and he also told me some things about the potions and spells that are taught. I daresay that I think I will be able to manage all this."  
  
"You can manage anything," Harry said, with a sincerity in his voice, that made Hermione blush bright pink.  
  
"Anyway, the time required after Hogwarts is the same as that for an Auror. So, that means that both of us will have to study for three years after Hogwarts...That is of course, if you still want to be an Auror," Hermione said.  
  
"Yes, I still want to. And then after the OWLs, I am glad that I will be able to be one," he said, "I wonder, though, what Ron will take up..."  
  
As soon as he said this, he wished that he hadn't. At the mention of Ron's name, Hermione's expression became impassive and she went back to the book that she was reading. Nothing was said between them for the rest of the time they were in the room.  
  
Harry sighed. The only dampener on their spirit over the holidays had been the state of their friendship with Ron. Harry was still enraged over the way Ron had treated Hermione. As for Hermione, she felt scared of Ron, she felt scared of the way he'd reacted. She still needed some time to recover from the shock and in the meantime, both she and Harry made conscious efforts not to let their conversations or memories veer onto anything connected remotely to Ron. It was really difficult, since Ron was a part of both of them, and as such, occasional slip-ups did occur, which usually resulted in silence. Hermione knew that running away like this from the problem wasn't a solution, but for the first time in her life, she was happy to just ignore an impending issue.  
  
That night, as they were downstairs for dinner (Tonks was with them), Harry asked Tonks, "Do you think Dumbledore will give his permission to visit Diagon Alley?"  
  
Tonks said mildly, "Why?" (She was still preoccupied with her food.)  
  
"Well," Harry began, "I needed to buy some things there."  
  
Tonks looked up from her plate and said, "Like?"  
  
"Like robes, parchment, potions equipment, quills, ink. And yes, I have to take some money out from my Gringotts vault as well," Harry said, rolling his eyes, "Honestly, Tonks, the way you talk anyone would believe that I was a nine year old."  
  
"Sorry Harry," Tonks said sheepishly, "But you know it is my job to ask. They assigned me to look after both of you for no reason. Anyway, I don't think your visit to Diagon Alley will be a problem with Dumbledore. After all, what can go wrong with a streetful of wizards to look after you. Anyway, when do you want to go?"  
  
"I think day after tomorrow will be good. Tomorrow, if you can manage it," Harry replied.  
  
"And Hermione?" Tonks asked. Hermione looked at Tonks as she said her name, "Will you be going too?"  
  
"I think I will," Hermione replied, "My parents won't be able to this year, so obviously I will need to visit Gringotts."  
  
"Okay then," Tonks said, "I will ask Dumbledore. I don't think it will be a problem. But for now, I think we should return to our food."  
  
With that, she began ploughing all the food in her plate into her mouth, not unlike the way Ron usually did. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes at her and went back to their own food, albeit in a far more civilized manner.  
  
After dinner, Tonks asked them what they were going to do. Harry wanted to sleep, but Hermione insisted that they should complete the last remnants of their holiday work that night itself. It was a nasty Potions essay on 'Safeguards to be Taken While Brewing Advanced Potions'. Snape had set this essay, saying that he wanted a roll of parchment from each student, irrespective of whether they would be 'admitted' to the NEWT classes for Potions; since he did not want anyone's foolishness or ignorance dent his reputation as a teacher.  
  
Neville had positively squeaked at this declaration. Although his fear of Snape had considerably diminished since the OWLs and the events at the Department of Mysteries, the venom that Snape had packed into the remark was enough to make him the old Neville, one more time.  
  
While Hermione were poring over 'Wizard's Guide to Advanced Potions' written by Jeremy Wizardsmith, later that night to find some suitable material for the essay, Harry looked up from another book that he was reading and said, "Hermione?"  
  
"Huh?" came the reply.  
  
"I was just wondering," Harry began, "since we will both be going to Diagon Alley together, if we could make it a date."  
  
Hermione looked up from the book that she was reading and stared at Harry. After a moment, her face broke into this big, wide smile and she said, "It's a date, Harry."  
  
And with that, Harry felt his heart rising within his chest. Clearly, he was starting to fall for Hermione.  
  
Harry and Hermione made ready to go to Diagon Alley, the day after next. Tonks had informed them of Dumbledore's permission for the visit. Personally, Harry couldn't have cared less for himself. His trust for Dumbledore had received a major setback even since Sirius' death. He had decided to visit Diagon Alley by himself, irrespective of whether Dumbledore agreed or not. However, he couldn't deny that the ancient wizard's permission made him feel a whole lot better, especially now that Hermione was coming along.  
  
It was against such a backdrop that Harry and Hermione flooed from a shop nearby to the Leaky Cauldron. (It was the same fireplace that Ron had used a few weeks earlier). They were told that it was owned by a wizard, who had 'ethically' decided to renounce magic. Hermione had snorted at this, saying that if it was indeed, the case, why on earth, had he still maintained a Floo connection. Still, Harry was glad that there was a way to reach Diagon Alley within a short time. Although he hated travelling by Floo powder, Harry couldn't deny that it was the only way he could spend the maximum possible time in Diagon Alley with Hermione.  
  
Lupin accompanied them to the shop and watched them go. Harry was personally glad to see Lupin, even though he looked a bit worn out. He had been especially worried about his old teacher and friend during the past few days, since a full moon had just passed.  
  
Harry was the first to step into the fire and was afterwards, followed by Hermione. He took a handful of Floo powder and (fortunately) shouted out the name of the Leaky Cauldron clearly. He was greeted at the other end by the toothy grin of Tom, the landlord of the inn.  
  
"Hello there, Harry! Are you alright?" Tom asked as he helped Harry on to his feet. Harry had never mastered the 'art' of travelling by Floo powder and this time was no exception either as he found himself on the floor instead of on his feet.  
  
"Got the message from Dumbledore yesterday. Told me to look out for both of you, you know, both you and Miss Granger," Tom continued, with a hint of pride in his voice, which clearly stemmed from the personal request made to him by the greatest wizard alive, so as to ensure the protection of 'The Boy Who Lived'. Harry, however, was not impressed.  
  
But he was interrupted in his musings (and fortunately saved from further talk by Tom) at that precise moment as the fireplace burst into life once more and Hermione stepped through smoothly and elegantly, into the confines of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry couldn't admire her more. Even though she still didn't like flying which Harry thought was a hell lot easier than this, she travelled by Floo powder as if she had done that all her life.  
  
'Trust Hermione to do make difficult things easy and easy things difficult,' Harry thought with a light smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Welcome, Miss Granger! Long time no see!" Tom greeted her as if he had just met a very old friend. This was starting to really affect Harry's nerves. But relief came over him when Tom said, "Well, must go back to the pub now. Great business today! Can't afford to wait a moment longer! I think you two should hurry up as well. You don't have all day, you know. Dumbledore told to send you back before seven."  
  
With that, he left both Harry and Hermione alone. They walked towards the opening to the secret wizarding marketplace. Harry tapped the wall three times with his wand and the bricks parted, revealing before them the entrance to Diagon Alley.  
  
Diagon Alley was just as Harry remembered – a streetful of wizards where you want to go everywhere and anywhere – as Sirius had told him last year when they had had a chance to speak of lighter matters (for once). Harry tried desperately not to think about all that. He offered his hand to Hermione, who laced her fingers through his and they made their way up the crooked street towards a white building shining in the distance. It was the Gringotts Wizard Bank. Both Harry and Hermione passed the goblins at the entrance, without second thoughts (or, looks for that matter) and made their way back to one of the counters.  
  
While Harry was accompanied by a goblin (his name was Griphook, Harry remembered him as the one who had taken him to his vault for the first time, but Griphook did not show any sign of recognition). Meanwhile, Hermione was exchanging Muggle money into galleons and sickles. It was indeed fortunate that Gringotts didn't worry about underage wizards carrying out their transactions, otherwise it would have been a bother for both of them.  
  
Half an hour later, Harry stood outside Gringotts, waiting for Hermione, who had told him to wait outside for a moment. Since this had happened at the time they were passing by the watchgoblin at the entrance, Harry had a sneaking suspicion about what she was going to do. After about two minutes, Hermione came skipping down the steps, seemingly very happy.  
  
"What?" she asked, as Harry stood there, looking critically at her, his brows furrowed.  
  
"Hermione," he replied, "Please tell me that whatever you did back there was not concerned with SPEW."  
  
"It isn't SPEW, it is S.P.E.W. – Society for Promotion of Elfish Welfare," she argued.  
  
"Yeah, yeah but at least you could change the name," Harry said in a resigned tone.  
  
"Don't speak like Ron," she said without thinking and immediately after realizing that she had mentioned Ron, her face quickly fell and she became grim.  
  
A similar change came over Harry's countenance. Although he knew how much Ron was a part of their lives, he wasn't ready to forgive him for what he'd done to Hermione, not yet. However, he soon regained his composure.  
  
"Come, now for our date, and I pay for everything," he said and taking her hand, led the way.  
  
Hermione gave him a watery sort of a smile and followed. Still, things did get better and more enjoyable as the day passed.  
  
Their first stop was Madam Malkin's robes for All Occasions'. Harry had to buy some new robes, as did Hermione. Hermione modelled the designs for him.  
  
"How do I look?" she asked as she stood before him, wearing the newest design.  
  
"Wonderful!" Harry replied, his gaze fixed on her face, instead of on her robes.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione said disapprovingly, "Each time I've asked you for your opinion, you've said 'wonderful' and nothing else. You are not even looking."  
  
"What's there to look?" Harry said dreamily, "You look wonderful in whatever you wear."  
  
"Boys!" Hermione gave an exasperated sigh as she said this loudly, shaking her head. However, she could not help but feel pleased as she walked back towards the changing area.  
  
"Excuse me! It's men," Harry called out after her.  
  
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Men!" Hermione rolled her eyes to herself as she shouted back.  
  
Twenty minutes later, it was Harry's turn as Madam Malkin herself took up his case. He had just fallen asleep, wondering why women took so long to pick out a simple robe for the school, when he had been woken by a very amused-looking Hermione.  
  
Hermione then had a long discussion with Madam Malkin regarding how she wanted Harry's robes to be made (Harry, of course, was completely oblivious to all that was being discussed). Now, the elderly witch was pinning the measuring robe accordingly.  
  
"I didn't know you were so deep into fashion," Harry said. "Ow!" he winced. One of the pins had just pricked him in the midriff.  
  
"Sorry!" Madam Malkin said apologetically but sternly, "However, I must admit, Mr Potter that it would, indeed, be a great help if you stopped moving and stood still for a moment. This'll take only a minute and I don't think I need to tell a sixteen year old wizard that."  
  
Hermione burst into laughter as she heard this, while Harry stood still. He had turned a bright crimson, at being chided at by the elderly witch.  
  
"So you didn't answer my question," Harry said, as he sat down beside Hermione, waiting for his robes to be made ready.  
  
"What?" she asked absentmindedly, as she pored over the catalogue of dress robes of various designs.  
  
"I'd asked you since when have you had such an interest in fashion," he said.  
  
Hermione looked up from the catalogue to see his emerald green eyes dancing merrily, as they looked at her. She replied, "Just because I don't flaunt something doesn't mean that I don't have a healthy interest in it. It's only the first time that I have used my knowledge though. You know, drawbacks of having a completely clueless boyfriend."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes at her and was about to retort, when a witch came out and handed over their packages. Harry paid for both of them (at least he tried to) but Hermione insisted on paying for her robes herself. ("No you don't," she said, "This is my uniform.") So, Harry contented himself with passing on the money she handed him over to the witch on the cash counter. That meant he would have to think of something else to give her as a gift.  
  
"You know, I think we should pay a visit to Fred and George's shop now," Harry said as they made their way from Madam Malkin's shop, "After all, I am still their financial backer, you know."  
  
"No, I'd rather not go," Hermione said firmly.  
  
"Why?" Harry inquired. "I heard they have gone for every possible protection charm to protect their establishment. Ginny told me personally at Mrs Figg's."  
  
"Many things can happen," Hermione replied, "Knowing Fred and George..." she trailed off as she visibly shuddered.  
  
"I don't know why you are so afraid of those two," Harry teased her, "They are our friends, after all."  
  
"Yes, they are," Hermione said, "And I'm not afraid of them, I am just...I just am worried of what they might be up to."  
  
"But you've always succeeded in controlling them. Remember, last year in the common room?"  
  
"Only too well," Hermione replied, "But that was different, that was back at Hogwarts. There I had the option of threatening them with telling Mrs Weasley. She knows now and I do not have that luxury anymore."  
  
"And?" Harry asked, looking on amused and willing her to continue at the same time.  
  
"Remember what they did at the party?" Hermione continued, "Who do you think was their number one target with the ghost lines?"  
  
"Neville," Harry replied, not knowing where she was getting to.  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, "But the thing is, I sort of manipulated Neville so that he'd be the target and not me."  
  
"Don't tell me," Harry groaned, "How could you?"  
  
"I was just a little scared," she said, "I think they are still trying to pull off some pranks on me." She added the last part with a nervous twinge to her voice.  
  
"Hey," Harry complained, "And I thought you were a Gryffindor!"  
  
"I am...it's just that..." she began uncertainly, not willing to meet his eyes.  
  
"No, you're obviously not," he said, "Otherwise, you wouldn't be chickening out on this. Hell, you're just going to meet your friends and you go on ranting about them trying to get back at you."  
  
"Fine!" she snapped. "But let's just make it the last and the shortest stop."  
  
"Bravo!" Harry tried to control his laughter at the sight of an unnerved Hermione. "That's my girl!"  
  
"But mind well, Potter!" she threatened him, "If I get even one prank pulled up on me, you will have to pay for it."  
  
Harry grinned at her and going close to her, whispered in her ear, "Anytime, Miss Granger, anytime."  
  
Thereafter, Hermione dragged Harry to Flourish and Blotts. It was probably the first time that Hermione had ever been recognised before the famous Harry Potter. The owner of the shop had personally come forward to attend to their needs (or to Hermione's needs, to be more precise). Hermione bought book after book and Harry just followed her around. She had told him that these were books that she would not be able to find at Hogwarts – they dealt with very advanced Healing. Finally, while she was busy with the billing, Harry's eyes saw it – a dark grey coloured book with seemingly yellow pages. He went near it and took it in his hands. It read in thin, golden letters – 'THE ANCIENT SECRET OF WAR'.  
  
Harry did not know why he wanted that book so badly, it was as if something unknown inside him was telling him to do so. He had never so much as bought another book for what Hermione would call 'light reading' (that of course, if you could discount the Quidditch magazines and manuals he had or the Defense books he was given by Lupin last Christmas).  
  
He thought of telling Hermione, but decided against it. He went out and told her, "Can you please wait a minute?" She nodded, and promptly went off to scan another part of the bookstore.  
  
Harry turned to the store owner and asked, "Mr....?"  
  
"Greenwitch. May I help you, Mr...?"  
  
Harry was stunned. Did this man not know his name? To Harry, it was a welcome relief that somebody in the wizarding world did not recognise him. Then he remembered that it had been three years since he'd last appeared in the book store and hence, maybe the owner did not recognise him.  
  
"Potter," Harry replied.  
  
"Ah yes! Now I remember! Thought I'd seen you before!" His eyes lingered upon the edge of Harry's bangs where he hid his famous scar.  
  
"Mr Greenwitch, I was just wondering whether you could help me with something."  
  
"Sure, Mr Potter."  
  
"Actually, I want to buy this book," Harry said, bringing up the book from underneath his armpit. "But I want it delivered by evening post today, to Hermione's address. Think you can manage that?"  
  
Mr Greenwitch nodded. He said, "You want it to be sent to Miss Granger?"  
  
"No," Harry replied, "I want it in my name."  
  
"You are staying with Miss Granger, I suppose," Mr Greenwitch asked. It was Harry's turn to nod this time.  
  
"Well, I daresay that can be managed. Anyways, we have to send some new books to the same address tonight," he said.  
  
"No, no," Harry shook his head. "I want this book to be sent separately. You know what I mean." He looked meaningfully at the store owner.  
  
He nodded. He took the package from Harry and kept it on the table. He looked once at the book and said, "You know, Mr Potter, I know every book that we keep here at Flourish and Blotts, and your choice, to me, is indeed, a strange one. This is an ancient bookstore started by my grandfather and although I must admit I've never opened this text, I know that this has been here ever since the store was opened. But no one has ever bought it before. Are you really sure then that you want to buy it?"  
  
"Yes, please," Harry said testily, making sure that he conveyed his desire not to answer any more questions that might be directed at him.  
  
"Very well then," Mr Greenwitch replied, "Will you be paying for this in advance or upon delivery?"  
  
"Now please." Harry replied.  
  
"Hermione, can I say something?" Harry asked as they exited Flourish and Blotts. Harry was now holding the huge packages that contained Hermione's books.  
  
She nodded at his question.  
  
"Next time we go out," he said, "please try not to leave me alone."  
  
Hermione blushed. She muttered, "Sorry about that, Harry, but you know, when I walk into a bookstore..." she trailed off and Harry picked up from where she'd left.  
  
"...when you walk into a bookstore, you cannot stop yourself from running to the nearest shelf and scanning through all those heavy volumes, yeah, I know," Harry said as Hermione rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"So what do you say about lunch?" Harry asked her. "I must say I'm starving with all this stuff that you've made me carry."  
  
"Stuff I made you carry?" Hermione said faintly and shook her head in disbelief, "It wouldn't be so if you didn't insist upon being so chivalrous. Stuff I made you carry! Honestly!" She rolled her eyes at Harry.  
  
They continued their good-natured banter as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. Once there, Harry was met with great relief as Tom agreed to keep their packages safe till such time when they were to return to the Granger home.  
  
After lunch, Harry and Hermione went back to Diagon Alley. It was a warm afternoon and Harry was thankful that he had chosen to wear plain Muggle clothing instead of normal wizarding clothes. Admittedly, it did grow stifling hot underneath those heavy layers of robes.  
  
Even as they walked into the Apothecary for replenishing their potions supply, they ran into Neville who was hurrying off somewhere.  
  
"Oi Neville!" Harry cried out as Neville literally ran right into him, "Watch where you are going!"  
  
"Sorry Harry," Neville apologised, "By the way, nice to see you. You too, Hermione."  
  
Neville smiled at them both. It was quite clear that he had changed a bit ever since they had last met at Hogwarts. To Harry, it seemed that he was a lot more relaxed and cheerful than usual (although that did not mean an extrovertly confident guy, by any means).  
  
"Hermione, how are your parents?" Neville asked her.  
  
"Fine! They'll be home in a couple of days," she replied.  
  
"So, what are you doing here?" Harry asked Neville, "and how is your grandmother?"  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione had grown very close with Ginny, Luna and Neville ever since the night in the Department of Mysteries. The adventures that they had shared and the chaos that they survived had firmly cemented their friendship.  
  
"I just came to buy some dung beetles and unicorn hair," Neville replied, ""My gran told me to bring some when I go home tonight."  
  
"What? Isn't she here?" Hermione asked, absentmindedly spilling some of the powdered asphodel that she was examining closely. The store owner, however, saw this and cleaned it up with a wave of his wand.  
  
"No," Neville replied, "Actually, I've taken a summer job at Fred and George's." Neville tried not to look too embarrassed as he said this and Harry suspected that there was something more going on than that met the eye.  
  
"Well, I'll get going then," Neville said as he paid his bill. "Shall I tell everyone the twins that you too will be coming over soon?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied, ignoring Hermione's rather pleading expression. "Tell them we'll be there in about an hour or so."  
  
"What?" he asked as Neville departed and Hermione held his gaze.  
  
"You could have made an excuse," she said, a hint of accusation in her voice.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry said exasperatedly, "You promised."  
  
"Fine!" she snapped at him. No words were spoken as they silently paid the bill and left the apothecary.


	8. Hogwarts at Long Last

**Chapter Eight  
  
Hogwarts At Long Last**  
  
About an hour and a half later, Harry and Hermione made their way towards Number 92, Diagon Alley. They had spent the better part of their time wandering about various stores in the alley. They had visited the stationer's, and 'Quality Quidditch Supplies' (which was Harry's personal favourite). They had even visited a wizarding departmental store which was named 'Wizard-Mart'. 'Not very original!' Harry thought. He had heard a few mentions of 'Wal-Mart' on television during his times with the Dursleys and the name of this store was only too clearly influenced by that. 'Maybe it's run by a Muggle-born!' he thought.  
  
Hermione had to buy material for her, well, project for S.P.E.W. Harry still hadn't told her that all the hats and socks she'd made last year were now the exclusive property of Dobby. At the Wizard-Mart, Hermione also forced Harry to buy a shaving machine for himself.  
  
"You really should buy that," she'd said, "Your appearance looks nearly hideous in all that." She was only too clearly referring to the visible portions of facial hair on Harry.  
  
"But it won't work at Hogwarts, it looks like it is electronic," Harry reasoned. He knew that Uncle Vernon had a similar machine, although he rarely used it.  
  
"No, it works on magic. You have to hold it in your wand hand and it uses a very small portion of your magical powers to work itself," she explained.  
  
"How do you know?" Harry had asked curiously.  
  
"It's written on this manual," she had said, rolling her eyes. Harry could really be dumb sometimes.  
  
Now, after all their purchases had been made they were on their way to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.  
  
They reached the store and looked at it from the outside. It seemed normal enough. They stepped inside and even as they heard a bell going off somewhere, the world seemed to turn upside down and Harry was finding himself hanging down from the floor and looking down at the ceiling. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had encountered a similar situation (albeit in a far more tense situation) during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, he'd very well have shrieked, just in the way Hermione had.  
  
By his calculations, they had been hanging upside down like that for about a minute, and Harry was beginning to start thinking of a way to cure them of this dilemma when he felt the world righting itself and he landed on the ground on his feet. He heard the same thing happen to Hermione by his side.  
  
Harry looked around everywhere as he reached the ground. The whole store was painted bright red – all the shelves, the walls, the billing counter, everything – so much so that it was almost hurtful to the eyes. And above all this, suspended from the ceiling was a huge blue banner that proclaimed in fiery, yellow letter –  
  
_**We come to turn your world upside down  
  
WEASLEYS' WIZARDING WHEEZES  
  
We help you paint the whole town red  
  
**_To top it all off, there was a photo of each of the twins on either corner of the banner. Of course, if you were an outsider, you could hardly tell who was who, yet since Harry knew the two pranksters well, he had an idea as to what was the answer to that.  
  
Harry noticed that the store was almost jam-packed. It was filled with children of all ages, and even some young adults. However, Harry's eyes nearly fell open out of their sockets (not unlike Mad-Eye) when he saw that a sea of middle-aged women, not unlike Mrs Weasley, was gathered around one particular corner of the store.  
  
Just as he planned to go towards the crowd and see what they could possibly be up to, he heard George's voice over the din, "Ten Galleons to the one who guesses correctly which photo is mine and which is Fred's."  
  
George made his way through the crowd and came upon Harry and Hermione.  
  
"Hello Harry! Hi, Hermione!" he said, "Nice to see both of you and that too, together, you know." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Harry.  
  
"Stuff it, George," Harry replied as Hermione blushed a deep crimson, "Anyway, where is Fred?"  
  
"Down there somewhere," George replied, making a vague gesture in the direction of one particular group of teenagers that was assembled (in a conspiratorial way) beneath a shelf that read 'Skiving Snackboxes' ('Stacking up for term!' Harry thought.)  
  
Harry turned back to George to find that Hermione was asking him, "Nice trick there," she motioned towards the entrance as she said this. Clearly, she was talking about 'the-world-turning-upside-down-trick'. "That was the Reversal Charm wasn't it?" George nodded. "But I think you really shouldn't use that at the entrance. That could give any poor customer a heart attack." Hermione's voice had assumed her know-it-all tone now.  
  
"Do hell with it!" George exclaimed irritatingly, "They might as well know that they are risking a heart attack even venturing near this place."  
  
Hermione snorted but regaining her usual brisk manner, she said, "So, did I hear you say that it's ten galleons for the one who recognises which is your photo and which is Fred's?"  
  
George nodded.  
  
"All right then," she rubbed her hands together and said, "You might as well keep those galleons ready."  
  
She looked closely at the photos and then looking at George, she said, "You are the one on the topmost corner and Fred in the bottom-right corner."  
  
George waited a moment and said in his sweetest voice, "As much as you think you are correct Hermione, I am afraid I must disappoint you with the news that you are wrong."  
  
Hermione was about to open her mouth to argue but instead she changed her mind, and looked at the banner once more and at the photos in each corner. But whoa! The photos had seemingly shifted their positions and were now occupying the same flank of the banner.  
  
Hermione looked indignant. "What the..." she began, but was cut off by George.  
  
"Relax sis," George said (he and Fred as well as all the Weasley siblings, with the exception of Ron regarded Hermione as a sister, just as they regarded Harry as one of their brothers.)  
  
Hermione's face was contorted with what Harry recognised as a mix of amusement and disapproval. Both he and George burst out laughing, while Hermione looked on, mollified.  
  
George said, "Come, I'll show you around. After all, we owe you for this."  
  
"Don't mention it," Harry began.  
  
They spent the rest of the afternoon looking around the joke shop. Harry was impressed. He bought a liberal supply of everything, determined to test them out when they got back to Hogwarts. What a pity he wouldn't meet Dudley till the next summer! Otherwise some of the joke shop items like Flowering Pasties and Role Reversal Jelly would have been worth trying on his cousin. Even though he wanted to pay for everything, George refused to accept even a single knut from him. (They had seen Fred here and there, but he hardly had time to say anything beyond 'Hello'. Clearly, the shop was moving.)  
  
"You know, Harry," George had told him as he piled all his purchases on to the counter, "You still remain our financial backer and in case you didn't notice, you are trying to pay for the very things that are made using the capital you supplied."  
  
As for Hermione, she'd seen the products on display and realized all too well that it was all the 'showy' sort of magic, as she put it. Okay, maybe with a few slight modifications here and there, it could really prove useful but it was still flashy stuff. However, she couldn't deny that she wasn't impressed.  
  
However, she wasn't in the least bit interested when Fred (he'd suddenly appeared out of nowhere and was now leading them on while George attended to the wails of a little girl who'd just swallowed a 'Banshee Treat') offered her a Squawking Toffee. This made Hermione squawk loudly every time a sound escaped her lips. She'd taken the toffee without question and realised only too late that it was one of the Weasley twins who'd offered her the same. She'd opened her mouth only to find a weird squawk emitting from her throat. Fred had whooped loudly at this while Harry had snorted in a bid to control his laughter.  
  
However, the spell wore off after a minute and Hermione treated Fred to a long lecture about not giving such 'dangerous' things to people who don't have the least idea about the same. However, one couldn't deny that Fred and George's abilities of timing their magic had improved since all the effects of their products wore off in precisely the same time as they claimed. ("Of course," Fred had told Harry, "we accept special orders for making stronger doses, but don't tell Hermione that.")  
  
"Come, since the store part is now over, let's just hang out at the back," George said.  
  
"Yeah, I presume that's were Ginny and Neville are, aren't they?" Harry asked.  
  
George nodded. "So what are they doing there?" Harry asked George.  
  
"There are more things in a shop than only making and selling goods, Harry," Hermione interjected, making it distinctly clear that she had a very good idea as to what job Ginny and Neville did, albeit she was explaining everything to Harry in a very motherly tone, as if he was a small boy of about four or five years. "You have to fill out mailing orders, address the feedback of customers, give orders for the raw material and all those things. Ginny is working in those departments."  
  
"And so is Neville-" Fred picked up from where Hermione had left off.  
  
"-Although we think that he might be here for reasons other than earning a few extra galleons and so, he needs to be watched for," George had come up to them by now and finished what Fred had wanted to say.  
  
Suddenly, it dawned upon Harry as to why Neville was there. Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley! Together! Didn't sound all that bad! But there certainly was the impending problem of Dean Thomas, Ginny's current boyfriend.  
  
As if he had read his mind, Fred told him almost gleefully, "They broke up a week ago. Apparently, he was eager to-"  
  
"I think you should stop at that," Hermione interrupted, "or I'll tell your Mum that you have been using the Extendable Ears again."  
  
"What?" Harry asked, apparently unaware of everything that was going on around him.  
  
"Sorry Harry," George said, "but I don't think we can tell you anything about this, not with the twin threats of Miss Granger and our Mum hanging over our heads."  
  
They had by now reached a particularly crowded area of the shop and since they had to go to the back of the store, it meant that their only way onward was to dissect the narrow gaps that the people standing their provided.  
  
"All right, buckle up everybody!" Fred shouted over the din. Harry smiled to himself. Without doubt, the Weasley twins had no comparison in theatrics. Fred shouted again, "Let's get through this crowd." He signalled towards the crowd of middle-aged women gathered near a particular product.  
  
"What are they doing here?" Hermione shouted into Harry's ear (unfortunately, that was the only way to speak otherwise audibility would have been hampered considerably, considering the noise that emanated from the talk of those women) "I mean, aren't they mature enough for this?"  
  
They had by now reached the door that led to the back of the store. "This is something that happens when you spill a simple sleeping draught on our Ton Tongue Toffees," George explained, with a wide flourish of his arms towards the shelves. He had somehow inexplicably, managed to hear Hermione even amidst the din, and was answering her, now that they had the time and the space to catch some breath.  
  
Fred joined in and said, "This, my friends, is the latest and the most effective tool for de-gnoming gardens. This is the future of de-gnoming," He joined George with similar flourishes of his arms and it would have appeared to an outsider as if the twins had given up their pranks and taken up dancing.  
  
"This is the revolution that the world of de-gnoming always needed," George finished off.  
  
Harry snorted as the twins continued their charade (albeit in very loud tones) as Hermione reached for the door and yanked it open.  
  
"So how does it work?" Hermione looked mildly interested as they walked into a quite spacious and well-ventilated working area.  
  
"Well, the gnomes swell to many times their size and then drop off into a deep sleep, from which it takes them about a month to wake up," Fred answered.  
  
"-by which time you can banish them to pretty much anywhere that you may wish," George finished.  
  
"That's interesting, but how did...well, hi Ginny!" Hermione waved at the redheaded girl who'd just walked into the office with a stack of envelopes under her arms and a small package in her hands.  
  
"Hi Hermione! Hi Harry!" she greeted as her eyes landed on her friends. "Will be back here in a moment!"  
  
Hermione waved the younger girl off. She then turned back to the twins and said, "So, how did you find all this out?"  
  
"Actually, we've got to give credit to Mum for that," George replied.  
  
"How?" Harry asked, wondering if he was really imagining this or Mrs Weasley had really helped Fred and George make one of their products and the most popular one at that.  
  
"When we apparated into our kitchen at the Burrow that fine evening with our brooms clutched into our hands and recuperating after a severe bout of Umbridgitis, she got really worked up and started ranting off at us-" Fred said.  
  
"-we told her that our future had outgrown that of our NEWTs, and that we'd got our resources together for opening the store. However, believe it or not, she got even angrier than usual, and waved her wand at the shelf a little too vigorously as she tried to summon a jar. However as it happened, a bottle of sleeping potion fell onto a pile of chocolates that we later saw actually were the Ton Tongue Toffees. And the rest as they say is wizarding history," George ended from where his twin had left off and Harry was faced to snort.  
  
"But where do the gnomes come in all this," Fred said, as he put what Harry had been thinking into words (if Harry didn't know better, he would have thought that the twins had learnt Leglimens), "As it happened, we asked Mum what our toffees were doing out there, normally, she wouldn't stand the sight of them. But she ignored us and just banished them to the garden. The next day, we saw the gnomes and well, the conclusions weren't very difficult to reach to."  
  
"Anyway, when Mum found that this stuff was really useful for de-gnoming the garden," George took up the narration, "she thought that we were really doing something useful (The other twin snickered at this) and we've been pretty much flooded with these customers since we formally introduced this product about a month ago."  
  
"Not that we are complaining though," George continued, "Business is perfect." He gave a contented sigh as Ginny came down and sank down into one of the chairs near them.  
  
"It wouldn't be perfect, if it weren't for me and Neville. I am the one who does all this office work and Neville sits at the billing counter," Ginny said dully.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, as if you would be working here if our business was not here!" Fred exclaimed. "Well Harry, we'd better be off. There might be customers out there who need help." He said this with a sly grin and Harry couldn't help but think that whatever happened, no one in their right mind would try to ask the Weasley twins for help.  
  
"I think I'll go meet Neville," Harry said.  
  
"But you just met him," Hermione interjected.  
  
"Well, I want to meet him again. Some reason, you know," Harry said and Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Yeah, but come back soon," her voice assumed a softer tone as she said this.  
  
"Hermione, I'm not even going out of the store. What do you think can happen?" Harry said exasperatedly.  
  
"Okay," Hermione said a bit sheepishly as Harry gave her a peck on the cheek before going out to search for Neville. This surprised Hermione, since Harry had never kissed her in public before.  
  
Ginny was watching this exchange between her friends with great interest. Immediately after Harry left the room, she asked Hermione, "So what was all that about? Spill the beans quickly."  
  
"What?" Hermione asked her in return trying to sound innocent and nonchalant.  
  
"About you and Harry?" the younger girl asked her again.  
  
"Nothing." Hermione said quickly, too quickly, perhaps, but if it did not betray her attempts at concealment, the fact that her cheeks turned a bright crimson gave her away.  
  
"Is that so?" Ginny asked, a wicked smile playing at the corner of her lips.  
  
"Yes," Hermione nodded.  
  
"I don't believe it," she replied simply. She now had a very good idea as to what was going on and was wickedly enjoying the sight of Hermione fidgeting about in her chair, clearly embarassed.  
  
She said, "All right then, let me take a wild guess. You and Harry got together, didn't you?"  
  
Hermione looked shyly at her friend and nodded.  
  
"Whoa!" Ginny squealed loudly, "This is some news. I knew this happened."  
  
"Why? Are we that obvious together?" Hermione asked quickly.  
  
"No," Ginny replied, "But they don't call me Miss Observant for nothing...Now, tell me everything."  
  
So, Hermione told her everything that had transpired between her and Harry that summer. Of course, there weren't any lurid details, so she could afford to do that.  
  
"Wow!" Ginny exclaimed as Hermione finished. However, her voice took a serious tone as she spoke again, "Does Ron know?"  
  
Hermione nodded again.  
  
"I guessed so," Ginny said, then seeing the questioning look on Hermione's face, she explained, "Ever since he came back from your house, he's been, well, just not Ron. Even his appetite has lessened, if you can believe that." Hermione smiled weakly at this joke.  
  
"So Ron knows..." Ginny began again, "And...?"  
  
"And what?" Hermione responded.  
  
"And how did he respond to your revelation?" Ginny asked patiently.  
  
"Hermione hesitated a bit before speaking. She was not sure if telling Ginny of Ron's behaviour would be a good idea. Yet she couldn't deny that she needed to talk to someone about all this. Normally, she would have talked to her mother, but that wasn't a good idea considering the circumstances. Harry didn't help either. He kept going completely rigid and silent, like a stone, every time Ron's name was mentioned. However, she couldn't blame him either. Ron had been a prat and deserved the silent treatment that they were giving him.  
  
All these thoughts raced through Hermione's mind as she dwelled upon whether and how much to reveal to Ginny. Finally, she decided to tell her the complete truth. Maybe, she could help in making Ron see sense regarding her and Harry.  
  
So, Hermione began after a few moments' silence, "He did not take it well at all," She shook her head at this.  
  
"Why? What did he do?" Ginny asked.  
  
"He said a lot of nasty things, he and Harry had a huge blow-up and then...and he hit me."  
  
"Whoa, the git! How dare he do that?" Ginny's eyes shone angrily as she said, "No wonder Mum was so hacked off at him and shouted at him for hours together!"  
  
"What?" Hermione asked faintly.  
  
"After they reached Headquarters," Ginny replied, "Mum asked Ron to accompany her to the kitchen. They were there for an hour at the least and when the door opened Ron was really red in the face and Mum seemed too angry for words. I did not know about what though, she'd cast an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door. But she has hardly spoken to Ron since. We reckoned it was because of how recklessly he'd gone to your home, but I know now, that it was indeed, something else."  
  
"But how could Mrs Weasley possibly have known? Okay, so it was she who healed me, but I told her that I'd just had a fall, nothing more."  
  
"Do you think she'd have bought that? She must've heard the shouting match that you told me of," Ginny said quietly, "Were they loud?"  
  
"Yeah, I could hear them down in the living room pretty much as if they were in the same room. So I don't think that their voices would not have reached the kitchen," Hermione replied thoughtfully, "But then it's just not like Mrs Weasley! Sorry to say that, but I would have thought that she'd have gone up to stop the shouting, had she heard."  
  
"I don't know," Ginny replied, "But Mum has somehow changed over the summer, if you can believe it."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Ever since Fred and George joined the Order - you know about that, don't you?" Ginny glanced at the window-sill as she said this. An owl had just appeared on the window-sill and she got up to untie the letter that it held up for him. She took the letter and the owl flew off with a flutter of its wings.  
  
Ginny scanned the letter and sighed, "Letter from Dean! Honestly! (she rolled her eyes) Apparently, he's sorry and wants us to get back together! The git! When will he realize that I am ready to move on and will not reconsider anything even if he sends apologies daily?"  
  
She went over to the desk and scribbled a note and tied it to the leg of one of the office delivery owls and told it to deliver the letter to her ex-boyfriend.  
  
"So when did the twins join the Order?" Hermione asked Ginny, as the younger girl was packing up the writing material that was on the desk.  
  
"About two months ago. Mum had a big blow-up on the issue. She did not want them to join, but they were adamant and prevailed over her in the end. Ever since, Mum has been less bossy than usual. She's let us do whatever we want. She's given us more freedom. That's one of the reasons why I was allowed to take this summer job. Of course, it doesn't help that Dad refuses to forgive Percy," Ginny shook her head as she reached the last part of her reply, "Percy has done practically everything but beg for forgiveness on his knees, but still, Dad did not forgive him. I never believed that I would ever see Dad being so unbecoming and unforgiving."  
  
Hermione nodded, to convey that she understood what Ginny was implying. She thought inwardly about this 'Second War'. Already before the war had begun in earnest, it was bringing about great changes in the people that she'd come to know over the years. She shuddered to think about what could happen if things went further.  
  
Hermione spent the remaining part of the afternoon talking to Ginny about more pleasant things, like the OWLs and Ginny's appointment as a fifth-year prefect. Finally, after a hour and a half, Harry appeared with Neville. Harry, especially, looked very pleased with himself.  
  
As they made ready to leave, Hermione whispered to Ginny, "Ginny, please, everything I told you about Harry and me, please don't tell anyone. I...we want to keep it a secret."  
  
Ginny looked sceptical but nodded nevertheless. "Okay, if you want that, I promise I won't tell anyone."  
  
With that Harry and Hermione made their way back down Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron. They were relieved to find that Lupin was talking to Tom, the landlord, waiting for them with a portkey. They thankfully took hold of their purchases and safely reached the Granger home.

* * *

Hermione's parents were discharged from the hospital the evening before the teenagers were to return to Hogwarts (Ironically, their doctor had succeeded in delaying their return by three days under the pretext of awaiting a blood report). The night they came home, there was a big celebration in the house. Lupin and Nick were the Order members present as Hermione (she was helped by Harry) made all the arrangements for her parents homecoming. There was lots of food that Hermione had cooked up. (Harry had found out over the summer that Hermione was a brilliant cook, something that he had never expected from this studious witch). Like everything else, except maybe for flying, Harry thought this facet of her persona very wonderful. However, the one thing that really irked him about all this was that he had had to carry the tonnes of food behind Hermione as they made their way from the supermarket to the Granger home. Evidently, she had planned on packing the refrigerator and the larder with all that she could.  
  
It was not a very complicated course or anything remotely like the feasts that Harry was used to at Hogwarts. For one, Hermione had done all this alone, (she had insisted firmly on not being disturbed in the kitchen as she cooked) and secondly, the condition of Hermione's parents did not allow for them to eat anything exotic for sometime to come. Nick had informed them that certain spices could interfere with the working of the Healing Potions that they were still being administered.  
  
The beauty of the dinner was in its simplicity and in the gay atmosphere that prevailed. Everyone talked nineteen to the dozen, especially Bob and Julia (They had made Harry call them that instead of Mr and Mrs Granger). Hermione had used her limited resources well to churn out something as fantastic as what she'd done. Even as they sat down to eat, Lupin proposed a toast to Hermione's parents.  
  
"For the health of Bob and Julia Granger, two wonderful people and parents to the most brilliant witch I've ever had the privilege of meeting," Lupin said.  
  
Hermione's parents looked very pleased with this toast. Hermione blushed pink at this declaration. Everyone lifted their glasses (which were filled with water) and took a sip. Any form of fluid except for water (and the Healing Potions) was a strict no-no for the Grangers for some days, and everyone else had decided to follow the same menu for the night. Harry smiled to himself as he remembered Lupin's seemingly serious yet playful smile while he proposed the toast. Clearly, once a Marauder, always a Marauder.  
  
The rest of the night passed in a blur. It was filled with food, merry-making and lots of light talk. As Harry went up to bed and kissed Hermione before he went to his own room (they had decided to sleep in different rooms that night, even though what they had been doing was nothing beyond snuggling together), he couldn't help thinking, Tomorrow, he'd going to Hogwarts. Tomorrow, he'd be back where he belonged. Yet he could not deny that despite all the things that had happened over this summer, it had been simply, the most amazing summer of his life.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Here's part 3 of chapter eight. Sorry about the delay, but I had a virus problem, Netsky or something like that. I tried to correct it myself so I don't know how long the rectified problem will last. I have already written part 4 on paper and only have to type it on the comp. So hopefully, the next update will be within the next three-four days. Till then read, enjoy and review. And once again thanks a million to William for betaing. You rock, man!! You do!_


	9. Hogwarts at Long Last Part II

**Chapter Eight**

**Hogwarts At Long Last**

"Aunt Petunia, if you disturb me any more, I will go send Hedwig to inform the Order," Harry mumbled groggily in his sleep. There was a giggling noise somewhere in the room and Harry felt someone shaking him vigorously.

He opened his eyes to see Hermione perched on the edge of the bed and looking positively elated at the thought of returning to Hogwarts the same day. In fact, Harry shared this elation with her, but just not now, that he was in the midst of an unusually long slumber.

"Uh! Hermione! Why do you have to wake me up so early? It's only..." Harry rubbed his eyes and said sleepily, while trying to determine the time by squinting at the clock on the left wall.

"It's eight and it's not early. Honestly Harry!" Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "We've to be ready and floo over to Headquarters in the next hour and a half. You've got to get a move on."

With that, Hermione yanked the sheets off Harry, leaving him exposed before her, scantily clad in only his boxer shorts.

"Hermione, that's gross! You're not supposed to see me like this," Harry complained.

"No, Mr Potter! I may not be!" she replied, "But in case I must remind you, I've seen you exactly like this over the last one month when I had been sleeping with you."

No sooner did she say this than Hermione turned a dark shade of red. Harry too, found himself, blushing, and there was a sudden strange feeling in the extreme lower end of his abdomen.

"Sorry!" Hermione said, blushing even more furiously, "That didn't come out right!"

"It's okay," Harry told her although he looked abashed as well, "But I still think you should go downstairs before anyone comes in and incriminates us for nothing."

"Well, you're right about going downstairs, but don't worry! No one will come upstairs. Everyone is having their breakfast at the moment," Hermione paused and said, "Speaking of breakfast, that's why I came to wake you up. You must get ready and appear in the kitchen immediately within the next half hour, or you won't get your breakfast."

"Oh! Talk about a tyrant," Harry teased her and then assumed an oily, almost seductive tone, "But you could fix up something for me later."

"Yes, maybe Mr Potter! But then again, maybe no!" Hermione retorted as she paused while pushing open the door and exiting the room, "But I wouldn't want anyone to take the chance." And with this good-natured teasing remark, she left the room, leaving behind Harry to tidy himself up.

Harry sighed as Hermione closed the door and looked around fondly at the room which he had called his own for the past one month. He looked around searching for the right words to describe in his mind what he was feeling. Well, for one, nostalgia would be an appropriate word. Harry had come to regard the house as a real home, a place he wanted to come more often to. This was the place where he had crossed the line of friendship with Hermione and grown emotionally dependent on her. The house, the room, had now created for themselves a special place in Harry's heart and he doubted whether he could forsake that place inside of him after all that had happened in the past month. And it was not only for the fact that it was Hermione's home but Harry also believed that it was in part due to his own firm belief that the house had somehow contributed towards making him a stronger person than he had once been. He couldn't place his finger on the exact reason, as to 'why', but he knew in his heart that it was true.

Exactly twenty-five minutes later, Harry walked into the Granger kitchen, only to see Hermione talking to her parents quietly. Remus Lupin was sitting immersed in the Daily Prophet as he sat in the living room. However, it was clear to Harry as he walked by that he was paying more attention to his watch that to the newspaper.

Hermione broke off the conversation and smiled at Harry as he entered the kitchen and sat down, "Hello, Harry. Good morning!"

Harry smiled back at her and wished her back, "Good morning, Hermione! Good morning, Mr Granger, Mrs Granger!"

"For god's sake Harry, how many times do we have to tell you that it's Bob and Julia and not Mr and Mrs Graner," Hermione's father said with an unmistakeable twinkle in his eyes, "And yes, good morning to you too. Ready to go back to school, I presume?"

"Yeah, more than ever," Harry said with a grim that made Hermione melt right where she sat. ("They're getting along," she thought of Harry and her parents, "That'll help when I break the news to them.")

"Well, but you'll first have to bear with Hermione's cooking," Julia Granger said with a laugh as she motioned for Hermione to bring Harry some breakfast. Before he could even try to say that he'd help himself, Harry saw a large pile of bacon, eggs and sausages along with toast, marmalade brought before him and he started wolfing down the lot at a speed which was just about less enough so as not to be called unmannered.

As he ate, Harry reflected on the apparent difference between the Grangers and the Weasleys – his favourite family. With the Weasleys, it was more crowded and merrier and you got the impression that everything happened exactly at one and the same moment. It was as if 'Chaos' was the rule of the house. But with the Grangers, everything was far more relaxed in a way (not laid back, mind you), more organised, in a manner of speaking.

One of the effects was very apparent to Harry. Over the past years, the morning of Harry's return to Hogwarts was spent in the midst of a whole houseful of Weasleys and he couldn't deny that things usually were very disorganised and confusing. But then that was the nature of the Weasleys. (Of course, Harry conveniently forgot that it was he should have packed his stuff up earlier each time). The Weasleys had this lovable 'large-family-living-very-happily-together-inspite-of-getting-disgusted-with-other-members-of-the-family-more-often-than-not' air about them, which was all the more reason why they were Harry's favourite family in the world.

However, Harry couldn't deny that it was nice for a change to be sitting quietly, enjoying his breakfast without the thought of packing and re-packing entering his mind even once. Of course, Hermione had nagged him to death until he finished his packing the previous afternoon and although he'd protested then, he was glad for it now.

* * *

About roughly an hour later, Harry found himself taking a portkey into 12, Grimmauld Place – the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix – from where they were to go across to the King's Cross Station. Dumbledore had apparently insisted on all Order movements occurring using Undetectable Portkeys (one of his latest inventions, Lupin had told Harry, to add to an already long list) He had reinforced the security arrangements around Sirius' ancestral home even further by revoking the Floo connection from there.

Harry braced himself up as he felt the jerk behind his navel, and seconds later, he found himself standing on the kitchen floor of Grimmauld Place.

There was no one in the kitchen and this struck Harry as odd. But that oddness vanished the moment he concentrated on the precincts of the kitchen of the old, ragged house where he'd last had a peaceful and merry talk with his beloved godfather. Indeed, every fibre in Harry's body felt as if it would dissolve into oblivion as he felt himself uneasily looking around for any sign of life in the room.

As he considered everything, he felt a light touch on his arm and turned around to see Lupin looking sombrely and sadly at him.

"Sort of reminds you of Sirius, doesn't it?" he asked, a small smile on his face as he remembered his old friend fondly.

Harry said nothing, absolutely nothing. After all, there was nothing to be said. Perhaps Lupin would have understood if Harry had explained to him how Sirius' death affected him. Perhaps he could understand this turmoil; after all Sirius had been Lupin's only surviving best friend, who for the Marauder, was equivalent to his family (Pettigrew did not count, of course, after all no person on the side of the good would be naïve enough to associate himself with one of Voldemort's minions) But Harry's case was just, well, completely different. He and Sirius had shared a special bond; both were once outcasts in the world they were forced to live in. Both were hated in that world for things that were no fault of theirs. Both had faced enormous trials and tribulations before being accepted by friends who judged them for what they were instead of for what they were believed to be and for what it was believed they had done. No one could penetrate that bond, no, not even Lupin. So, like the Mr Repressed Feelings that he nearly always was, Harry decided to remain passive.

"Harry, are you all right?" Lupin asked, concern lighting his tired-looking eyes.

"Yeah, I am fine," Harry replied in an unconvincing tone. "Just feeling a bit dizzy after the Portkey. I think I'll just sit here for a bit. You go and round up the Weasleys."

Lupin appeared unconvinced, but didn't question anything. He nodded to Harry and strode out of the room and on upstairs, taking care to be quiet so as not to wake up Sirius' 'sweet-tempered and extremely polite mother immortalised in an irremovable portrait.' (Sirius had used these exact words to describe his mother to Harry once last year in what was a fine moment of wit and satirical dialogue.)

Harry took his seat at the kitchen table at the same place where he used to sit every single time last year, during his stay in this old house. His eyes fell upon the place where Sirius usually sat, joking, laughter and mirth clearly evident in his eyes. To Harry, it seemed as if Sirius would return at that very moment to his old place; but he knew, in his heart of hearts that he was hoping for the impossible. Sirius was not coming back, no never, and Harry...he was just not ready to accept that, even though he knew it was true.

"Harry...Harry?" he heard Hermione calling his name from across the table and brought Harry out of his musings and back into reality. For one, it just made the resurgent feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach subside marginally.

"I knew this would happen. The moment you stepped into this house, you would go back into your shell and forget about everything but yourself and your grief," Hermione said, shaking her head. "You can't go on like this, Harry, being mute about what happened in the Department of Mysteries last summer. We all loved Sirius. A part of every one of us died with him that night. You need to understand this, Harry. You must move this load off your chest and stop this self-pitying and wallowing."

"Don't tell me about what I must do," Harry replied, indeed more fiercely that he should have, "You don't know even half of the truth. You don't know what I am destined to do. You don't know anything about the pro..."

At this, Harry stopped abruptly. He'd gone on too far, and he knew Hermione would be quick to catch up on this. Sure enough, she'd raised her eyebrows at him. At the same time, though, there was a loud crashing sound in the living room, followed by equally loud, rude cries. Evidently, someone had dropped a trunk while carrying it downstairs and this had set off Sirius' mother should for all she was worth. (Apparently, her son's death had hardly fazed her.)

"FILTHY SCUM, INHABITING MY HOUSE AGAIN LIKE LEECHES. EVEN WITH MY WORTHLESS SON DEAD, YOU COME TO MY HOUSE, SEEKING SHELTER FOR HALF-BLOODS, MUDBLOODS AND HALF-BREEDS..." came the slightly slurred voice of Sirius' mother from beyond the closed door.

But Harry heard none of this. He looked down at the table, at his hands, at his fingers and at the floor, at the walls - everywhere except directly at Hermione. Ashamed of how he'd talked to her, he broke the brief silence on the part of the both of them and said slowly and softly, "Hermione, I'm sorry. But I don't think I'm ready. I don't think I could talk about this, not yet."

Hermione nodded in understanding, her brown eyes glazed with a couple of tears. She brought her hands across the table to Harry's and squeezed his hands.

"It's okay, Harry. I understand. But never feel that you're alone. I'm with you and shall always be. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded and immediately he felt the mixed feelings of anger and guilt subsiding rapidly inside of him. He knew it was temporary; they would be back again after a while, but as long as he'd Hermione to comfort his like that, he felt he could overcome them.

However, he felt all his grievances ebbing away as he discerned Ron standing in the living room with them later on. Mrs Weasley had earlier come into the kitchen and after greeting both Harry and Hermione with her trademark bone-crunching embrace, told them to go and wait with their luggage in the living room for the Ministry cars to arrive. Harry had asked her to repeat what she'd said. Apparently, Harry found out, that the Ministry had finally retreated from its hostile stand against himself, although Fudge did still carry on a hidden propaganda against Dumbledore, perceivably to thwart what he still believed was the attempt at the creation of two power centres in the wizarding world. (Of course, Fudge was forgetting that Lord Voldemort had already done that job by polarizing the magical community). Anyways, the Ministry had evidently accorded to Harry, the status of an A1 secure wizard which was equivalent to the highest level of security a wizard could receive while being in the Muggle world. As a result, the Ministry was sending a car to pick them up.

As a result of all these developments, Harry was now sitting in the living room, with Hermione, Ginny, Lupin and Mundungus Fletcher, who'd evidently come the night before for an Order meeting and had since not stopped snoring, despite all the noises that were being made around him. Ginny told Harry that she suspected that the twins had slipped a sleeping potion into Mundungus' juice at dinner in order to get back at him for selling them Neekerbreekers (A/N: This term belongs to JRR Tolkien and Samwise Gamgee. I don't own it. I am just using it for a bit of fun, with the fun being the only profit) at what they'd reckoned was double the market price. Harry did not believe this though. He didn't think that the twins were so foolish that they'd show the audacity to prank on their major supplier. He personally suspected that Mundungus' mysterious 'nap' was something to do more with his 'dealings' than with anyone else.

There was also Mrs Weasley, who was, as usual, bustling here and there, doing this or that, completing what seemed to Harry an endless list of seemingly unimportant chores. Ginny was relaxing in one of the chairs while Ron was standing back in the shadows. To Harry, he looked eerily silent and thoughtful.

Finally, the doorbell rang and the loud cries of Sirius' mother accompanied it. At the same time, Lupin whipped out his wand and muttered a silencing charm over the whole room so that they could only see Mrs Black's face moving. No sound could be heard. Of course, that also meant that they were all dragging their luggage along with them in silence as well. But no one complained.

They made their way outside only to find a yellow-coloured battered looking car standing outside on the street with Kingsley Shacklebolt at the helm. "Hi there, everyone!" he said quite jovially (which was frankly a bit out of character for Kingsley) as they made their way to the car. "Hop in now!"

Harry would ordinarily have thought in the first eleven years of his life (ten of them with the Dursleys) that fitting so many people in one small car would have been impossible but with five years worth of experience of the magical world now behind him, he knew that looks could indeed be very deceptive. Sure enough, every one of them fitted quite easily in the car with the luggage sagely stowed in the boot.

"Wow, Kingsley!" Ginny exclaimed. "I didn't expect you to be driving us."

"Yes, Kingsley," Mrs Weasley echoed, "How come you are here?"

"Well Molly," Kingsley replied, "You know how it is. Dumbledore doesn't want the Ministry to know anything about Headquarters and the Ministry insisted on chauffeuring Harry and his friends themselves. So, I volunteered to appease both parties. Fudge actually didn't want me to do this, but you know how it is now, he is getting over-ruled for even the most trivial decision by the Warlocks."

At this, Harry noticed a significant look upon Hermione's face which meant that she had just comprehended something very important. But Harry knew it wasn't the right time to ask her about it. He'd have to remember to ask her later.

The journey from Grimmauld Place to King's Cross was spent in silence as everyone dealt with their own inner musings. Harry thought about Hermione, Ron, Voldemort...just about everyone and everything. Hermione thought about Harry and Ron and the upcoming year at Hogwarts. As for Ron...well for the first time in days, he'd finally reached a decision on his desire to maintain his friendship with his two best friends. Although the decision he took was not without debate and moments of withdrawal, he knew he must do it. And he was intent upon doing it.

About half and hour later a few moments prior to the departure of the Hogwarts Express, customary goodbyes were being said by the adults to the teenagers (In Harry's case, there were a good many 'be careful's thrusted in with the rest of the words) He'd approached Platform Nine and Three Quarters with a sense of foreboding, fearing whether it would be the same as before, especially with Voldemort now out in the open. But much to his immense relief, Harry noticed upon passing through the barrier to the entrance of the platform at a relatively easy pace, that the platform was just the same as before, the Hogwarts Express looked no better nor any worse for wear and there was still the same old crowd of Hogwarts students swarming about the place.

As the train set off, Hermione whispered to Harry that she needed to go to the Prefects' meeting and would be back later. She left along with Ginny who was the sixth-year Gryffindor prefect and Harry was left alone with no one to keep him company.

He gazed steadily outside the window. The settlements were passing by swiftly and Harry knew that in a matter of no time, they would leave these scattered dwelling behind and the Hogwarts Express would pass through dense woodlands, all the while advancing towards the Hogsmeade station and the stone ramparts of Hogwarts castle.

As he sat there alone staring outside, Harry remembered that day in his third year when Sirius had sent Pigwidgeon with his first letter to Harry. The thought of his godfather was growing on Harry's mind ever since his brief visit to the ancient Black home and he tried his best to ignore those thoughts.

Some time later, Harry heard the door of his compartment opening. Presuming it to be one of the students moving around the train, he continued staring outside the window. But soon he felt that someone who'd entered the compartment staring at him earnestly. Harry turned around slowly, and was immensely relieved to find that that person was none other than Luna Lovegood, already dressed in her Hogwarts robes and still sporting the Butterbeer cork necklace (The earrings were done away with).

"Hi, Luna!" Harry greeted her. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Luna looked at Harry as though he were a tiny spider she wanted to take a closer look at. Then she abruptly stopped staring and said in a mystic, ethereal voice not unlike that of Trelawney's. "Hi Harry! Hope you enjoyed the summer. Ginny told me you are seeing Hermione."

Harry felt a bit awkward. He never thought that he'd have to discuss his love life with Looney Lovegood, of all the people. He shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat and was saved from further embarrassment by the sound of Hermione and Ginny walking into the compartment, with Ron close behind them, his face red and looking like he'd just been subjected to a lot of stress or pressure.

Hermione greeted Luna (a little tensely, it seemed to Harry) as she took her seat besides Harry and Ginny took the one on the opposite side. But Luna hardly seemed to notice. She just looked around straight past them and at Ron and said in her same dreamy voice, "Hello Ronald! Hope you had a good summer!"

Ron grimaced inwardly at her words. His summer had been anything but good. His fights with his best friends, his failed relationship with Hermione, the cold shoulder that he received from his mother and sister and the incessant time he had spent in the dark and dreary Black home alone...well, things hadn't been good by any means.

However, he was jolted out of his thoughts by Ginny clearing her throat significantly, "Ron, I believe you wanted to day something."

"Not before her," Ron pointed to Luna.

"You know, Ronald, it's rude to point at anyone," Luna appeared unfazed by what Ron was implying for her to do.

"Don't mind Luna, Ron," Ginny said, "She's a friend. Just say what you want to."

At this, Harry gave a very out-of-character false laugh and said harshly, "What does he want to say? Didn't he say enough during our last meeting?"

Ron's intentions received a big blow as Harry said this. He'd expected to say his apologies and to have them accepted immediately by his best friends. But he realized now that it wound have been too easy to be possible. He remembered vaguely about what someone had said about choosing between the good and the easy (most probably, it was Dumbledore. The old guy always seemed to have the craziest ideas about everything)

Driving these latest thoughts from his mind, Ron focussed on his best friends sitting side by side in the compartment and said, "Harry, Hermione, it's just that...well...I'm very sorry for...I mean, I know I acted like a big fool...like the biggest prat in the world but believe me...I didn't mean to do either of you any harm. I guess I was just...just peeved at you both...jealous more likely and I'm very sorry for everything I did. I thought about this and realized that both of your friendship means much more to me than anything and I couldn't afford to ruin it over the mere fact that you and Hermione are seeing each other."

Ron was initially stuttering as he started saying this, but as he progressed, he felt the right words coming out of his mouth in the right manner and felt more confident.

After he finished, an eerie silence descended upon the compartment. It seemed that even Luna was watching the proceeding with great interest.

At last, Ron broke the pregnant silence and said, "Look Harry, I value both of your friendships more than everything. I am sorry for what I said or did, but I really want to be your friend again."

There was another silence that followed and finally, Harry said, "So do I, Ron. So do I. But I don't know whether I can ever forget what you did, Ron. I don't think I ever shall. But I'll admit this. You were the first friend I had and also my best friend all this while ever since I came to Hogwarts and I love you for that. As far as your apology is concerned, it's more to do with Hermione than with me. If she accepts your apology, so shall I."

At this Ron looked expectedly at Hermione. She was looking at the floor, biting her lower lip, obviously thinking hard.

At last, she said, "I forgive you, Ron. Although it will be hard for me to forget everything, I agree that your friendship is much more important than anything else."

With that, she got up and walked over to Ron and hugged him lightly. Ron hugged her back and a smile appeared on his face. Hermione pulled back from the embrace and Ron got the chance to see Harry's reaction. To his relief, Harry was smiling as well. Ron walked over to him and shook his hand.

"Nice to have you back, mate," Harry grinned at him.

But immediately as he said this, there was a loud sob in the compartment and everyone looked up amused, in the direction of Luna who was gently dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief saying, "You guys are so sweet." At this, the tension that had been imminent in the compartment all that while dissipated into thin air and the rest of the journey was spent in peace, happiness and great expectations with the upcoming year at Hogwarts, much like the previous times they had rode the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

That evening, the train slowly pulled into the quaint little Hogsmeade station and everyone got out in midst of the familiar hustle and bustle of students getting down the train and making their way towards the Thestral-pulled school carriages. Hagrid, meanwhile, was there as well. Harry didn't really get to meet him up close since he was at the opposite end of the platform, but he knew that Hagrid would take the first years to Hogwarts via a boat ride over the lake. Sure enough, he was shouting, "Firs'-years! Over 'ere!" to that effect.

Harry waved his hand to his first real acquaintance in the wizarding world and moved over to one of the carriages along with Luna and Neville. Harry felt a bit sick as he saw the Thestrals. They definitely reminded him of the night Sirius had died.

He got into the carriage and closing his eyes, he tried to rid his brain of those very depressing thoughts. He tried to bring into force, every bit of Occlumency that he'd learnt from Snape. He tried to empty his mind but to no avail.

Suddenly, Luna's voice broke in onto his thoughts as she said, "Makes you sad, doesn't it? Sort of reminds you of that night."

Neville looked at Luna and a look of comprehension dawned upon his face. But Harry remained rather impassive. Over the summer, he'd tried to avoid thinking about Sirius' death. At that time, it had been relatively easy since he was in the Muggle world; but now, in the wizarding world, he realized that it would be far more difficult that he'd imagined.

However, Harry was saved from answering Luna's rather, rhetorical question as the carriage rattled onto the Hogwarts grounds and entered the gates flanked on either side by the vision of two winged boars. The castle loomed closer and closer and finally the carriage stopped in front of the entrance. Harry got down and with a last pat on the mane of one of the Thestrals drawing their carriage, he made his way towards the Great Hall where the sorting ceremony and the subsequent Opening Feast would be held.

Harry took his regular place at the Gryffindor table and was soon joined by Hermione and Ron both looking very happy indeed. Hermione told Harry about Malfoy being the bullying git that he always had been and at the same time, wondering why he hadn't made his customary appearance to taunt Harry during the train ride. But just as Ron was saying, "Maybe he realised Harry isn't someone to mess around with!" the doors to the Great Hall burst open once again and Professor McGonagall walked in with the Sorting Hat and a whole line of frightened looking children in tow. Harry, meanwhile, thought that they looked more like toddlers than children.

Professor McGonagall was looking quite fit. She had probably recovered from the attack on her last year and as she place the old, battered looking Sorting Hat on a stool near the teachers' table, everyone saw a mouth open near the brim of the hat and subsequently, everyone heard what was probably the worst rhyme, composed by the Hat:

_Long ago, foundations of stone_

_Were laid upon the hard work of bone_

_And thus was born_

_In a world bleak and forlorn_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Famous and alive for years far more than a century_

_The founders were great_

_They made wizardry an art_

_They worked hard in unison_

_And taught everyone on their part_

_But the future of the school seemed doomed_

_When differences between the founders arose_

_Such a quarrel there was_

_As cannot be expressed in song or prose_

_That time Hogwarts survived_

_Even though it was torn asunder_

_Yet everyone was relieved to see_

_That the school continued doing its wonder_

_But once again threat loom_

_When the date of our doom_

_Lingers over our head_

_When no longer can we have peace in our bed_

_With the enemy now out in the open_

_It's time for the war to begin_

_Remember what always I've been saying_

_For that is the only key to winning_

_I'll sort you into your houses_

_But you need to stand together as a wall_

_For the only truth apparent is_

_United we stand, Divided we fall_

There was only a semblance of rippled applause across the Hall as the Sorting Hat finished its song, or rather its cryptic warning. Of course, it wasn't all that unexpected since it felt to Harry, rather expected after a similar occurrence last year.

It was now time for the Sorting Ceremony and as Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on the head of a little boy having brown hair and wide brown eyes (his name was read out to be Ackerman, Alvin and by the looks of it, Harry could hardly tell whether his eyes were really so wide or they had grown so on seeing such wondrous feats of magic) The Sorting Hat shouted out Gryffindor and Harry joined his fellow housemates in greeting the new boy, who seemed to Harry, a Muggle-born by all means, especially since he did not make out anything spectacular of his lightning bolt scar, at least not for now.

However, as the Sorting progressed, Harry found his attention gradually waning. He now diverted his attention to the staff table. Dumbledore was sitting there serenely watching his newest charges getting sorted into their respective houses. Everyone else seemed to be there as well, including Snape who shot Harry one of his trademark looks of pure venom, Harry sighed at this. Some things would never change. Harry had no doubt in his mind that his 'OUTSTANDING' Potions OWL had indeed increased Snape's loathing of him and incensed the Potions master to seeking out new heights of revenge.

But it was not Snape that caught Harry's eye, it was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who was sitting beside Snape and surveying the students with a cool, calculated look. Yes, Harry knew that he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher since there were no other real vacancies left on the Hogwarts payroll.

The new teacher, was well, in one work, he looked to Harry like an ex-Colonel or something or that sort who had retired from the army. He had a few soft features on his face that seemed accentuated by the wear and tear it had seen. His hair was like salt and pepper as was his bushy moustache that reminded Harry distinctly of Uncle Vernon. His dull blue eyes were covered by a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. He was wearing black robes, almost like the students and had a very interested look in his eyes that seemed to breathe life into their dull blue colour.

By the time Harry finished his minute observations, the Sorting was over and he saw Professor McGonagall remover the Sorting Hat from the stool. Finally when everyone was seated, Dumbledore got up and announced, "Let the feast begin!"

At this the empty plates in front of the students filled themselves with food and like every year, Harry spent his first two hours back at Hogwarts eating up his fill to his heart's content. The food was excellent as usual and as Harry rounded off his dinner with his favourite treacle tart; he silently thanked the Hogwarts House Elves for being so efficient that even amidst all the upheaval in the wizarding world, the nature of their work had never changed. Some things never really did change.

Finally after the dinner was over and everyone was chattering across the Great Hall catching up on the news of their friends, Professor Dumbledore got up and cleared his throat.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore began and the Great Hall immediately went silent. "I will take this opportunity to welcome all of you back from the summer holidays, especially the first years who will be spending the next seven years of their life at Hogwarts and the seventh years for whom this is the opportunity to be at Hogwarts as students for the last time."

Harry was a little amused at this. What Dumbledore said didn't make sense especially when you had your stomach full and your body tired. He caught a glimpse of Cho Chang at the Ravenclaw table and saw that she was listening, enamoured. He remembered that this was Cho's last year at Hogwarts and that she might be trying to soak up the atmosphere, one last time.

"First let me get a few of the usual start-of-the-term announcements out of the way. The students need to note that the Forbidden Forest on the edge of the grounds are forbidden for each one of them, irrespective of which year they belong to and how much advanced magic they know. In case anyone has any urgent need to go into the forest, I would advise them to inform their teachers about that," Dumbledore said dryly, at which there were sounds of scattered laughing at what many thought of as a joke. But Harry knew otherwise. He was hit by a pang of guilt as he remembered all that had happened when he last ventured into the Forbidden Forest, and knew that Dumbledore was indirectly referring to that incident. He tried to ignore that guilty feeling and forced himself to concentrate on what Dumbledore was saying.

"Secondly, Quidditch tryouts will be held in the week beginning next Monday and the Quidditch captains are to ensure that the schedules are prepared for the same," Dumbledore continued in a cheery voice. The students at the Gryffindor table broke out into loud whispers at this, since there were five vacancies left on the Quidditch team. However, Harry wondered about the Quidditch captain. The only senior members of the team were Ron and Harry and he would have willingly bet all his money on himself as being the next Quidditch captain.

Dumbledore however, did not pay heed to all the chattering that had broken out at this announcement. "We are also very happy to welcome a new staff member this year to our fold for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I am pleased to welcome Professor Elijah Bickerstaff." At this Harry diverted his attention, to the middle-aged man with hair like salt and pepper sitting beside Snape. Dumbledore gave a short nod of his head towards the direction in which the new professor was sitting. In fact, Harry got the feeling that Dumbledore was quite pleased with this appointment. Professor Bickerstaff gave only a curt nod of his head to acknowledge the polite applause that the students were giving him.

"Before I let all of you off though, I've one more thing to say, the same thing that I told all of you during the Leaving Feast last year," Dumbledore said, (Harry's ears pricked up, he hadn't attended the Feast last year and had no idea of what Dumbledore had told the school of), "Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. (A/N: Thank you, Peter Jackson and LOTR) Lord Voldemort is now out in the open and he will not stop until he gains absolute power or perishes. We are now at war and everything that we have created for the good of our world in now in danger. So, why am I telling you all this when it undoubtedly creates fear in your mind? I am telling you this, because each and every one of you needs to be ready. Every one of you is involved in this war, and somehow everything will change, when it will end, either for good or for evil. I have always said that Hogwarts is the safest place there is for any of you, but remember that even though that may be true, it is not unbreakable. The only way we can protect Hogwarts and ourselves is to be united. That's what it will require to resist the evil that currently surrounds us and I hope each and every one of you will keep this in mind as you go about staying here at Hogwarts this year. Now off you go!"

With that, Dumbledore sat back down and the Great Hall witnessed a stunned silence, trying to understand what Dumbledore had said. 'Hogwarts is not safe?' was the subject of the panicked whispers of most students. No one got up from their seats and panicked whispers arose across the hall among students.

All this forced Dumbledore to get up from his seat and explain his statement with the air of a tired man, "There is no reason to panic. I still maintain that Hogwarts is the safest place there is. However, know this. If everything else in the magical world falls prey to Lord Voldemort, Hogwarts will most certainly fall. I will hence, reiterate that the only way of preventing such an eventuality is to remain united and fearless. We must learn to overcome our fears; we must learn to look beyond them and live our lives on the path of good. That's why I told you what you did, because the time to keep secrets is past."

With that Dumbledore sat down again. The panic among the students had subsided a bit and this caused Harry to wonder whether this year might just turn out to be like his second year when everyone lived under the cloud of fear regarding the monster residing in the Chamber of Secrets. However, there was indeed, one group which looked positively gleeful at the prospect of a weakened Hogwarts. It was of course, Draco Malfoy and his equally snobbish Slytherin mates, most of whose families were entrenched in the Dark movement upto their noses.

Finally, everyone started getting up from their seats and making their way towards the exit of the Great Hall. Harry saw Ginny and Hermione lead the first year girls towards the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Rowan (the fifth-year Gryffindor prefect, Harry was struck by the likeness of their names) led the boys in the same direction.

Harry took a few shortcuts here and there and found himself in one of the many corridors at Hogwarts. He had covered about three-fourths of the distance to the Gryffindor common room within no time, by taking these shortcuts and was strolling along at an easy pace. He had almost turned the corner to the next corridor, when he felt the hair on the back of his throat rising and he ducked just as he felt the purple light of a spell pass over him. Harry was just about to roll over and shoot a counter spell on the person who'd attacked him from behind, when someone called to him in a smooth, silky tone, "Mr Potter, a word please."

What To Expect Next:

Phew! That chapter really drove me crazy especially the Sorting Hat's song since, to my regret, I am really not good at poetry. So there you see. The whole big 'Sirius' thing is back. I think I had earlier dropped a hint somewhere about Harry not having got over Sirius' death. So what do you think about this. Please remember to read and review. Meanwhile, in store in the next chapter: Who called out to Harry? Oh, I bet you know that already, don't you? Which subjects will he choose? How long will his remade friendship with Ron exist? What about the new DADA teacher? Find out answers or half-answers to all these in the next chapter – 'New Beginnings'.

P.S. Just to remind you, there are a few subtle hints out here in this chapter. Let me see if anyone can catch them up.


	10. New Beginnings, Old Ways

This chapter is dedicated to leprechaun, for the most critical and honest reviews I could get. Thanks, mate.

Thanks a million to Willam, for betaing. You are a wonderful beta reader.

**Chapter Nine**

**New Beginnings, ****Old Ways******

Harry took a few shortcuts here and there and found himself in one of the many corridors at Hogwarts. He had covered about three-fourths of the distance to the Gryffindor common room within no time, by taking these shortcuts and was strolling along at an easy pace. He had almost turned the corner to the next corridor, when he felt the hair on the back of his throat rising and he ducked just as he felt the purple light of a spell pass over him. Harry was just about to roll over and shoot a counter spell on the person who'd attacked him from behind, when someone called to him in a smooth, silky tone, "Mr Potter, a word please."

Harry looked up to see the distinct form of Professor Elijah Bickerstaff approaching him. It was apparently he who'd shot the spell at Harry.

"What were you doing?" Harry began angrily. He could not imagine a teacher attacking a student at Hogwarts. Okay, maybe with the exception of Snape, but Harry had to acknowledge that even Snape would not attack him like that on his first day back at school.

"There are reasons, Mr Potter," Bickerstaff replied.

"What reasons? I don't think…" Harry began, even angrier than previously.

"All in good time, Mr Potter. But for now, I'll be obliged if you got up and came up with me to my office. I've some important things to discuss with you," Bickerstaff said in his silky tone. On second thoughts, there were a few similarities in his voice and Malfoy's although the Professor's voice thankfully lacked the drawl that Draco Malfoy had branded him own.

Harry got up and followed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Even though Bickerstaff had only requested Harry to accompany him, Harry knew better than to refuse a teacher (guess, Hermione's influence had helped), especially such an unknown commodity as the new Professor. He had to admit though that a part of him was curious to hear what Bickerstaff had to say.

As they reached his office, Bickerstaff held the door open for Harry and then followed him in, closing it gently as he did so. Harry looked around the room and was relieved to see that the foul décor overflowing with pink, that adorned the room during the last time he'd been here, trying to speak with Sirius through the Floo connection, was gone. Yet there was little else in the room. Not a single belonging was present which could suggest that the office was occupied, nothing whatsoever.

"I am glad to note that you are so observant, Mr Potter," Bickerstaff broke in on his thoughts, "You see I haven't quite had the opportunity to modify the arrangements in this office to my liking. Yet I daresay you may expect to witness the change in a few days."

As he spoke, Harry noticed the Bickerstaff's regal, polished manner. It was like he came from the top of the social tree in which he lived. The words came out smoothly and Harry had no doubt that standing before him was a pure-blood wizard belonging to some ancient lineage regarded with prestige and respect in the wizarding world.

But for now, he sharply asked the question that had just flashed in his mind, "How'd you know what I was thinking? Did you use Leglimens?"

"Hardly, Mr Potter," Bickerstaff replied, "I don't need to use Leglimens and waste my magical energy to look into someone's thoughts. It's just a simple Muggle technique; you might have heard of it, of course, it's all based on observation and deduction, and then some experience of the matter, of course."

"You are a Muggle-born?" Harry asked, a slight bit bewildered with his initial guess having gone awry.

Bickerstaff nodded, "Yes, indeed. And since you were just wondering about my lineage…yes, I know you were…I am one of the distant cousins of the Queen, from one of the old families who still lay a lot of importance on your manners and conduct. Sort of explains my manner, doesn't it?" he added with a wry smile.

Harry smiled weakly and nodded.

Meanwhile, Bickerstaff continued, "So, that's enough about me. Onto what I wanted to talk to you about. But let me say this first. I am finally pleased to meet the famous Harry Potter in person."

Harry felt really embarrassed at this. You would have thought that he would get used to this after spending five years in the wizarding world, but he wasn't at all comfortable with his fame. He forced himself to revert to the original query that plagued his mind, "It may be so, but why then did you try to attack me?"

"Ah, I am really sorry about that, Mr Potter," Bickerstaff said, "But I wanted to test you, see if you are alert enough, see if you are vigilant enough, test if you had lowered your defences."

"There could have been a better way to test that," Harry said, gingerly rubbing the back of his neck at the spot where he had a slight twinge in his next muscles now from trying to dodge the spell.

"Yes, but tell me, is a Death Eater going to approach you and ask your permission before he directs a spell at you?" the Professor asked, not failing to follow Harry's gaze, "Or worse, is You-Know-Who going to pause before doing so? It's one of the parts of defending yourself, Mr Potter; one of the few ways – an unceasing alertness to the activity around you…Yes, and just in case you want to satisfy your curiosity, Alastor Moody is one of my very close friends. We were at school together and then at Auror training. We were together on many assignments but then, I was forced to retire from Auror ranks, a premature retirement, undoubtedly, but well, it was inevitable after what had happened." A flicker of pain passed over his face as he said this.

"What? What happened?" Harry asked, hoping he wasn't being too inquisitive.

"I encountered the Dark Lord. He tried to kill me, and well, he almost did. And then, well somehow I managed to survive, others helped me escape and brought me back to St Mungo's where I was no better than dead at the time I arrived. I was in St Mungo's for one year while they attended to my wounds. After sometime, I re-joined the proper wizarding mainstream. I was hired at Hogwarts for the same position I hold now. But Dark Magic still had its hold over me. I could not do any magic, for instance. Finally, I could take no more and I left Hogwarts after three years of service and wandered around, lost; wondering if I could ever be cured." As Bickerstaff said all this, his eyes clouded over with the dark look that was clearly reserved for the remembrance of his darkest days.

"But you…" Harry stammered, "You can do magic again. I mean you shot that spell at me."

"Yes, I was coming to that," the Professor said with the hint of a smile, "I was cured, thanks to you."

"Me?" Harry asked, his breath caught in the huge lump that had just formed in his throat.

"Yes, Mr Potter," Bickerstaff replied, "You. It happened the night you defeated You-Know-Who. I felt as if all the Dark Magic that had dwelt in me for twenty years was slowly draining away, even before I had heard of You-Know-Who's downfall. At that moment, I knew something great had happened, something that would bring happiness to all world, something that had now given me a new life. So, you see, in a way, you saved me and gave new meaning to my life. You gave me back my honour and that's why when You-Know-Who re-emerged, I joined Dumbledore in his fight, I joined the Order."

"You are a member of the Order?" Harry asked, wondering why he had never seen and heard of him before, in that case. His head was already swimming in the torrents of information that Bickerstaff had just unleashed on him.

"Yes, your friends know, of course," Bickerstaff said, a kind smile in his eyes, "They had, I believe seen me at Grimmauld Place, on a couple of occasions. That was of course, before you were first brought there."

He turned back and walked towards the open window, through which only the dark night could be seen. There were no stars in the sky, there was no moon either, only dark clouds, that made an observer's visibility no better than zero.

Bickerstaff looked out of the window, his back tuned on Harry. Harry had just begun to wonder what the man before him had zoned off into, when Bickerstaff said suddenly, his back still turned towards Harry, "Sometimes I wonder whether I'd fought hard enough in my old days…whether I really knew what this fight between good and evil really was…whether I kept my honour throughout…whether I really knew what honour was."

He then tuned towards Harry and said, "You know, Mr Potter, the oldwives' tales of my ancestors…kings of old in their glory days fending off dangerous foes; riding to the greatest adventures…they were never lost upon me. I always dreamt of being like them. In fact, I still do. I wish to perform such heroic deeds, serve noble masters like the knights of old. I guess that's why I joined the war in the first place, and I wanted to keep the honour that I'd been told of in my childhood intact. I fought as well as I could, but I often wonder if that was indeed, all I could give. I wonder if I really knew what I was fighting for."

"I am sure you gave your best in the war," Harry said hesitantly, "After all, you did survive Voldemort."

"No, Mr Potter," Bickerstaff exclaimed, "It's not that. Don't you see it as yet? Most of the wizards who gave away everything in the fight against Voldemort got death in return. Your parents, Lily and James were one of them. It just makes me wonder, the fate that everyone met over the years, whether I fought hard enough and if I did, what am I doing here standing in flesh and blood?"

"Does this mean that you want to die?" Harry asked, getting a little angry at the way Bickerstaff was conducting this conversation. It was as if he thought that the fact that his parents had died made them happy. He continued, "Do you mean to say that all those people who'd died over the years, leaving their loved ones bereft and weeping, do you think the fact that they died was good for them?"

"I see that you speak from your heart, Mr Potter," Professor Bickerstaff replied, a gleam of kindness palpable in his dull blue eyes. "I guess you miss your parents. And why wouldn't you? They were two of the most caring persons in the world. Their deaths affected the lives of each and every person who knew them. But in some rarer cases, death isn't such a bad option at all. I fact, maybe, it transpires to something more fulfilling than life itself. Of course, I would not say so for your parents, but for many others, it holds true."

"You speak like one who knew my parents well," Harry said, the eagerness in his voice very much apparent.

"Yes, I knew them," Bickerstaff replied, "I taught them at school at one time and then, I knew them as one of the leading members of the Anti-Dark movement."

"You taught them at school?" Harry asked, his curiosity regarding his parents' lives coming to the fore. His parents were a part of Harry's life that he couldn't remember and facts and snippets regarding them from the persons who had known them in the past were the only sources of information. To Harry, his parents were an enigma – an enigma he desperately wanted to change into something concrete and his heart suddenly ballooned with the hope that Bickerstaff's latest revelation would help him in taking a step in that direction.

"Yes, I did," Bickerstaff said, his eyes getting a soft hue, as if he were recollecting some very pleasant memories. But then he alerted his expression and told Harry kindly, "But we'll talk about them some other day, when we'll have the time to do so, with the circumstances being on our side."

"But-" Harry began but he was cut off again by Bickerstaff's voice.

"No buts, Mr Potter," he said, "Don't worry, one day, you will learn all you want to know about Lily and James, you just need to have patience. You already have a genuine dose of this quality, but you must learn to exercise it at the right time and in the right places."

Harry opened his mouth to speak on contrary lines, but then he decided against it. So, he intended on dropping the subject for now and merely nodded at his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

There was a long, pregnant silence in the room, during which it seemed that both parties privy to the conversation were thinking of what to say next.

Finally, Bickerstaff said, "Oh look at this! It's already midnight, well past the curfew, indeed. You should be going now. By the way, if you happen to encounter Mr Filch, tell him that I had given you detention for something or the other. That will be the best way to put him off your case."

Harry got up and nodded at the Professor. He made his way to the door, when Bickerstaff spoke again, "I gather now, Mr Potter why Albus Dumbledore thinks so highly of you and trusts you so…and it seems to me that his trust is not misplaced either."

Harry turned around, looking at the Professor who had a curious, analytical sort of gaze directed at him. Then he turned around once again and left the office, wondering if the last remark meant more than was actually said.

Harry forced himself to make his way up to the Gryffindor common room. It was as if his feet took his body in that direction automatically while is mind wandered elsewhere, in unknown realms, seeking answers he so desperately wanted, shunting the grief he so painfully felt.

But now as he stood before the portrait of the Fat Lady, the immediate question that confronted him was regarding the password. Since it was now well past the curfew and no one would be found anywhere around, he had two choices before him – he could either wait outside for someone to open the portrait hole and risk being caught by Filch in the time that he waited or he could walk down to Professor McGonagall's office, ask her for the password, invoke her ire and then risk getting caught by Filch on top of that. But with the predicament that he was in, Harry could not even contemplate any of the two choices. All his thoughts were bent upon what Bickerstaff had said and all that he had experienced over the years both inside and outside Hogwarts.

He thought about his parents, about Sirius and it was at that moment when the full blast of these thoughts, which he had been putting on the backburner throughout the course of the day, hit him in full force. Just the burdens he had to carry caused his shoulders to become slumped forwards. Grief overcame his heart and he collapsed on the floor, and started shaking, apparently feeling a sudden paroxysm of fear and panic.

However, just at that moment, as if someone had been a passive witness to all this, the portrait hole swung open and Hermione emerged breathless, and trying frantically to find something or someone she sought. Finally, her eyes discerned that someone. She rushed to Harry's side and took him in her arms.

She pulled Harry close to herself, as close as possible and started whispering in his ear, "Harry, it's alright. It's alright. There's nothing to fear. I am here with you. It's going to be alright."

She continued repeating this and kissing Harry's face repeatedly, trying to convey her love for him in these gestures. Finally, Harry felt something. Yes, his mind was clearing a little. His thoughts – they were still confused, but he could feel the air again, his heart rising and falling within his chest, his senses working fine within his body. He felt a bit relaxed and suddenly the world came into focus again as did the slightly sobbing face of Hermione holding him very close to her, her face clearly etched in concern and worry.

"Hermione, where am I?" he asked weakly still feeling the after-effects of the sudden panic attack he'd just experienced.

"Right here outside the common room," she replied, still concerned. "Are you feeling alright now, Harry? Can you walk?"

"I guess so," Harry said feebly. Although his head had stopped spinning, Harry still felt a bit dizzy. But he got up with Hermione's support and hobbled into the cosy familiarity of the Gryffindor common room.

She led him up to a couch by the fireplace in which the embers were still crackling merrily, casting shadows that danced across their faces. She sat him down and took the seat next to him, still holding his hand and squeezing them reassuringly.

"Harry, are you alright?" she asked, with concern and great care for him, which reflected in those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Harry told her. He was feeling loads better than earlier. Somehow, Hermione's presence had soothed him, calmed him down like nothing else could.

There was a moment of silence that followed, during which time Harry revelled in Hermione's presence and got his thought process together. Even though he was still feeling dizzy, he could now at least focus his thoughts and rationalize them, if needed.

"Harry, can I ask you something?" Hermione said, looking more at the fireplace than at Harry.

"What? You can ask me anything," Harry replied.

"What happened out there?" Hermione replied, turning her head to look at Harry.

Harry said nothing in return. He just sat there, his head now resting on Hermione's shoulder, his eyes looking at the red embers glowing sadly in the dark, casting red, flickering fluorescence around the room and dark shadows across the various dimensions of the space in it. He just sat there like that, his mind blank and numb, not wanting to answer what she'd asked for it would be too painful; he just did not want to change the blissful state that he was temporarily in for as long as he could.

"Harry?" Hermione said softly, "Are you listening?"

Harry had heard her question but he did not answer. Instead he said, "Hermione, can you please stay with me tonight?"

Hermione replied in the affirmative. "Sure Harry, anything for you," she said.

At that, Harry shifted his position on the couch and laid his head on Hermione's lap. He looked into her brown eyes, brimming with love and concern for him. She kissed his forehead and within no time, he drifted off to a dreamless slumber, his body weary with grief and fatigue, his mind void of all thoughts – in that empty space that no thinker has ever been able to define, the space where the mind wanders off into, to shut itself down and rest. That night, Harry knew nothing, nothing but for the peace and contentment he felt in his heart and soul after a long time – the feeling that he was complete.

After Harry drifted off, Hermione sat there, looking at his peaceful countenance – with no remembrance of any burden on his shoulders, no remembrance of the expectations heaped upon him by the people who knew him and even those who did not. He looked almost like a small child, nestled in his crib, a smile playing on his lips, unknown to himself.

She thanked her stars that the Fat Lady had witnessed what had happened with Harry and rushed into one of the landscapes hanging in the common room to call for help. And after she saw Harry, she was even gladder that she had decided to be up on their first night back to do some light reading. (Of course, that was deemed impossible in her own dormitory by the giggling of her dorm-mates).

Hermione was a bright witch, not just for her photographic memory and studious nature, but even more so because of her observant character. She knew something was eating up Harry from inside. She knew he was bottling up that something inside of him while the right thing would be to let off the steam of the unsaid feelings kept forcefully inside his heart. But, she promised herself that she would help him and discover the reasons. She vowed that the whole world would never see that face of Harry Potter which she'd just witnesses. And with this thought, she drifted off to sleep, travelling all those hidden and beautiful paths which lay undiscovered during the hours of awakening but where the spirit roams freely in the state of slumber.

* * *

Hermione was awakened a few hours later by Ginny, who was slightly shaking her, It took her mind a moment to register her thoughts and recall the occurrences of a few hours earlier and the reason why she was sleeping in the common room. She quickly looked beside herm only to see Harry still sprawled next to her on the couch, his head still on her lap.

Hermione motioned for Ginny to keep quiet and summoning a couple of cushions to her side, she gently laid Harry on those. She stood up and stretched, as if to gather the young morning into both of her arms.

Ginny looked at Hermione, who was still in her robes from the previous night. She was certainly looking a bit dishelved and tired.

"Busy, were you last night?" she teased her older friend, "I bet you and Harry were snogging each other senseless and in the end fell asleep in each other's arms. Or was it something more, something like going all the way and then getting tired due to the 'exercise'?"

"Ginny," Hermione reprimanded her, albeit in a low voice, so as not to wake Harry up.

"All right, all right," Ginny said in a low voice as well, taking a cue from Hermione, and raising her hands in the air in a sign of surrender, "Just joking, Hermione." On a more serious note, she continued, "Anyway, you are lucky it was I who woke up so early and found both of you here, instead of it being someone else. I don't believe you'd want the news of your relationship with Harry to go public just yet, before you decided upon it. You two should be more careful if you sincerely want this to be the case." Ginny finished, assuming the air of sensibility that was usually so characteristic of Hermione, and at the same time not too different from the attitude of her own mother. It was somehow like the mixture of the two.

"Yeah," Hermione whispered, "But you know, Harry…" she began but cut herself off at the last moment, knowing that Harry wouldn't really like her telling Ginny everything, even though she was indeed, a very good friend.

"Yes, what did Harry do?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Nothing," Hermione replied hesitantly, "It's just that he asked me to stay with him yesterday night for a bit and I think since we were both very tired, we dozed off and had a nice, long sleep till you woke me up."

Hermione bit her lip as she said this. She didn't like saying half-truths to her friends. Ginny asked her, "Are you sure that's all? I mean, I don't remember seeing Harry return to the common room last night. Are you sure you're not hiding anything?"

"No, there's nothing," Hermione replied, "Honestly, you are just imagining things, that's all."

"All right," Ginny said smiling, a twinkle in her hazel eyes, "But next time, be more careful, especially if you want to keep everything a secret."

"Yeah," Hermione confessed, "I am sure Harry wants to keep it so."

"But what do you want?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione was surprised at the question but she answered nonetheless (after a moment of silence), "I…I want the same."

Gunny surveyed the older girl critically for a moment and then said, "You don't know how happy I'm to have heard that…Anyway, I think you should wake Harry and both of you should go to your respective dorms. It is only five in the morning. With luck, you two might be able to catch some forty winks in your beds for a change, before breakfast is served," she added with a smile, especially at the last part.

"Of course," said Hermione. Then she paused and said, "By the way, Ginny, what are you doing up so early? You've never been a morning person."

"I just couldn't sleep," Ginny replied, without the slightest trace of hesitation, "So I decided to go for a little stroll."

"At five in the morning?" Hermione asked faintly.

"Never mind me," Ginny said, "You wake Harry up and go get a good night's sleep. I would like to believe that you deserve it."

Hermione took her advice and woke Harry up softly. "Wake up Harry," she said, "You need to go back to your dorm."

Harry did not reason with her. He was too sleepy to do that. He walked up the stairs, went and collapse on his bed without a second thought. Hermione suppressed a giggle as she watched her sixteen-year old boyfriend doing the sleepwalk like a six-year old child. She herself went up to her dorm, yawning for all she was worth and was soon lost to her dreams.

Meanwhile, unseen to either of them, Ginny Weasley was no making her way around Hogwarts, trying to seek something, or maybe someone.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up seemingly refreshed. He got ready quickly and put on his Hogwarts robes. There was no immediate memory of the occurrence of the previous night.

By the time Harry had dressed, Ron was awake as well and both of them made their way down to the common room to meet up with Hermione and then down to the Great Hall for breakfast. As she saw Harry, Hermione resisted the urge to ask him if he was all right, but seeing the relaxed expression on his face, she decided against it. For once, everything was back to how it had been with the three of them, once upon a time, when there were no cares, no issues, no worries and no inner demons; when there were only friends and fun.

The sixth years did not have a single regular class that whole week back. Instead, they were to have counselling lectures on each subject and its course aims at the NEWT level so as to enable the students to decide easily which subject they would take. After all, it would give a defining shape to their careers.

This sudden and unexpected absence of homework during their week back meant different things to each of the Gryffindors. To Dean and Seamus, it gave them a chance to look for new girlfriends; for Neville, it meant more chances of trying to woo Ginny; to Hermione, it meant more time to study and race off to a quicker start than anyone else in their year ("As if she has not done that already," Ron pointed out to Harry); but to Ron and Harry, it meant Quidditch. They'd planned on visiting the Quidditch pitch later that afternoon (Harry still didn't know about Ron being the Quidditch captain, although Ron intended to tell me that afternoon) but they first had to attend the counselling lecture for Potions and subsequently the Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Earlier that morning, McGonagall had summoned the sixth-year Gryffindors to her office before breakfast. It was really very early, but she looked as strict and severe as ever. She called them in and gave them their schedule for the week. She had told them that they'd have until Saturday to enrol for the desired NEWT courses and gave them a remarkably short yet concise lay-down on why they were supposed to take this whole process seriously.

"What you decide in this week will determine the future that you'll all face for the rest of your lives," she'd said before dismissing them. "So remember to take your decisions considerately and carefully. If you need any help, you may approach me, but remember, this is your choice and yours alone. So choose wisely."

The Gryffindors had now been waiting for some five minutes in front of the closed door of the Potions classroom, when the most unwelcome visitors showed up there, complete with nail, hammer and tooth.

"Well looks like all the mudbloods, half-bloods and muggle lovers are present here!" came the voice of Draco Malfoy. "Maybe they are looking for ways to remain safe, knowing that they don't deserve the Dark Lord's forgiveness."

Before any of the Gryffindors had a chance to react though, the door to the dungeons slowly opened and the students found themselves staring at the sneering face of Severus Snape, his face lined with wrath and loathing upon looking at the Gryffindors.

They took their seats and waited for Snape to begin his tirade, his assault on their minds in a manner of speaking.

"As it is, the art of potion-making is beyond the abilities of most of the students belonging to one half of this class," Snape began, sneering at the Gryffindors, as if he were inspecting some disgusting slimy leech perched on a branch, though to Harry, it seemed that he wouldn't be able to tell which was slimier, the leech or Snape's hair. Snape's gaze lingered longer than necessary on everyone except Hermione, as if willing them to prove wrong, the judgement he'd just pronounced. The Slytherins of course, were exempted from this leechcraft as they merely sat in their seats smirking loathingly at the Gryffindors.

"I will therefore, expect all those who did not receive at least an Outstanding grade in the Potions OWL's to exit the classroom before I begin speaking on more important topics, lest they find themselves so distressingly stupid as not to be able to follow what I say," Snape continued. "Now!" he barked to those who were to go out.

At this, there was a flurry of activity as most of the Gryffindors started picking their bags up and rushing out of the classroom, eager to get out of the dark, damp classroom they disliked the most and rid themselves of their least favourite subject while at Hogwarts, not in fact due to the difficulty and dullness of the curriculum (History of Magic had claimed that spot as its own) but generally because of the Potions master who could even make a rock sweat with fear and apprehension. None of the Slytherins got up though. Harry suspected that Snape had told them to sit through his class at an earlier meeting. For one, nothing in the world could make him believe that cave-trolls like Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode could get an 'O' in any subject, let alone in one of the more difficult subjects – Potions.

Ron too began packing his bags. He'd got an 'Acceptable' in Potions and was only too glad to leave the Potions dungeon. After packing his own stuff up, he motioned to Harry to accompany him, but Harry wasn't getting up. In fact, he hadn't made a single movement to get up during all this time.

"Harry, aren't you coming?" he asked, tapping his foot impatiently, well aware that Snape was watching him.

"No," Harry replied, "If you are going, don't wait for me. I'll catch up with you in the Dark Arts."

"But Snape?" Ron whispered, "he said everyone must get an…"

"Harry has got an 'O', Ron," Hermione interrupted.

"Oh!" Ron said. He looked a little bit puzzled and maybe a tad bit disappointed as he said, "See you later then!" and walked out of the Potions classroom. Meanwhile, Harry was left wondering if this latest revelation had again dealt a blow to his re-made friendship.

Of course, it was true that Ron was, in reality, a rather jealous person at the outset. He always ignored whatever good things he had with him and vied for what others had. Of course, it most probably stemmed from the fact that his family was poor and had little social standing in the wizarding world, a notable section of which was still under many old prejudices regarding social position. This meant that he was more often than not, subjected to sudden pangs of jealousy, and Harry could only hope that nothing of that sort had just occurred.

However, thankfully for him, since Snape chose that precise moment to start his address to the class, these thoughts were driven out from Harry's mind. He observed that he, Hermione and to his biggest surprise, Neville, were the only students left.

Snape was saying, "Not many Gryffindors, I see. You'd notice that I've invited the Slytherins for this session, since I was confident that we won't be dealing with many Gryffindors this year and it seems I was correct. Only three of them and that with two being Longbottom and Potter. Very, very interesting indeed. I should really contact the exam authorities and enquire about this. Maybe, a re-test will help gauge your abilities better."

However, to Harry's surprise, he did not feel apprehensive at all at the prospect of giving a re-test. In fact, for the first time, he felt confident about being able to pass the test easily. Maybe it was effect of spending the summer with Hermione without there being a likelihood of Ron butting in. Even Neville didn't look so fazed by Snape's presence. Maybe, he had realised that facing Snape wasn't so bad as facing a group of ten Death Eaters without there being a single adult to guard them, well almost.

At this, Snape continued on about what he expected of his NEWT-level students and the high standard that he'd come to expect of them. Of course, he didn't fail to add that most of those successes were Slytherins, and took advantage of every excuse he got of berating Harry and Neville. Since classes had not started yet, he found that he couldn't however, find any fault, genuine or otherwise, with Hermione.

So it was, about an hour and a half later, the three of them were trudging up the way from the dungeons, feeling thankful that they didn't have any counselling sessions in the afternoon, after Defense Against the Dark Arts. Actually, there was Divination, but that didn't matter to either Harry or Hermione, nor to Neville, who in any case, hadn't been able to distinguish between breaking tea cups and crystal orbs during class.

Neville was telling Harry about his reaction when he realise that he'd got an OUTSTANDING in Potions. "And when my Gran asked why I said I hated Potions if I'd got my best grades in it and Herbology, I answered saying that maybe it was because I remembered all the things that Hermione had been whispering to me all these years through class." This set Harry and Hermione dissolving into loud fits of laughter that echoed off the stone walls of the dungeons. With this, they made their way up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for another bout of counselling.

However, Harry didn't need the session to decide whether he was going to continue with the subject. Of course, considering the fact that he was undoubtedly the pick of the class in the subject and that he wanted to become an Auror, and add to that, the fact that he was the wizarding world's only hope against Voldemort, he did not really have any other option. So as fate would have it, Harry was supposed to compulsorily attend the lecture since they were to sign up for the subject immediately after that.

Actually, truth be told, Harry had another reason for wanting to attend the lecture. His talk with Professor Bickerstaff had piqued his interest in the man. So, it was against this background that Harry was sitting in the Dark Arts classroom, along with his fellow sixth-year Gryffindors.

Professor Bickerstaff arrived precisely on time and stood smiling in front of the class. "Welcome Gryffindors! I see all of you are here. Undoubtedly, I am glad to see that you are all so eager at learning to defend yourselves from the Dark Arts. I have, indeed, looked up on everything that you've done in the last five years, and I daresay that you are all ready to take the next step into the Defense mechanisms. I am here to help you with that, I am here to teach you that. But you must know first why you need to study Defense Against the Dark Arts? First, you need to tell me honestly how many of you really want to study this subject, from the bottom of your heart?"

At this, all the Gryffindors raised their hands up in the air.

"Very well," said Professor Bickerstaff, and then he suddenly dropped the pitch of his voice into that of a loud, hoarse whisper as he said, "But the question is why?"

At this, a few hands lingered in the air. Harry, however, didn't raise his. His reasons were many and some were beyond anyone's imagination, so he didn't want to share them with anyone, at least not now.

"Yes, Miss Patil," Bickerstaff questioned.

"Sir, I want to learn this because there is You-Know-Who out there with his followers and I want to be able to fight them off," Parvati replied.

At this reply, Bickerstaff did not say anything but he merely continued to ask each one of the Gryffindors the same question. All answers that he got were on similar lines, even for Ron and Hermione (who, of course, added a part on gaining more knowledge to the consensual answer)

Finally, Bickerstaff came up to Harry and said, "Mr Potter, your answer?"

Harry looked up from his desk and looking straight into Bickerstaff's dull blue eyes, he replied, "Sir, I want to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts because I want to be aware of what the Dark Side can possibly to and I want to be prepared against it. More than a matter of life and death, I do not want the Dark Side to hold any sway over me."

Harry was quite surprise at his own answer. He honestly did not think that he could ever have been so thoughtful. Yet Bickerstaff seemed most satisfied by his answer. He smile once again displaying milky white teeth that unlike Lockhart's teeth didn't dazzle anyone's eyes (thankfully!)

Then he said, "Indeed, Mr Potter, a most satisfying answer! We need to be prepared against what the Dark Side can do. We must appreciate the worst that can happen to us, and we must never let the Dark Side have any hold over us. Very well answered, indeed!"

"Yet," Bickerstaff continued, "How do we know what is the worst? How do we know what the Dark Side can do? After all, very few people who faced the Dark over the centuries succeeded in surviving. Yet we see new people willing to fight against the Dark. You all are no exceptions either. So why do we feel the urge to fight? Why is good a cause worth dying for? Is it because in each of our hearts there is a desire to be the biggest hero in the world? Why is good, a cause worth dying for?"

"I know, a few of you may be wondering why I am saying this. Then understand that I am saying this because for you to repel evil, you need to understand evil. In the same way, for studying the Defense mechanisms you will have to study some of the Dark Arts as well. And that's why it is essential that you have a stout mind because the Dark Arts appear like a lavish temptress and only those who are fully committed to the cause of the light by heart and mind will survive this temptation. I have full faith that all of you in this room have that strength. But always remember that such strength is for resisting the Dark and not for aiding it."

"But what does fighting evil have to do with understanding evil?" Seamus interjected.

At this, Professor Bickerstaff diverted his attention towards Seamus and asked him, "Tell me something, Mr Finnigan; almost everyone in the wizarding world fears You-Know-Who so much that we even fear to speak out his name aloud. Why do you think that is?"

"Dunno," Seamus admitted, looking a little abashed and a lot more fearful, "Maybe, it's because of all those people he's killed over the years."

"You think so? You think You-Know-Who terrorises people just because he is a murderer?" Bickerstaff asked, a mild smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Then tell me what would happen if I were to curse the entire school this very day and kill everyone here? Would people feel even half as frightened of me? So do you think it's only about killing people?"

Seamus looked dumbfounded and at a complete loss for words. Finally, Bickerstaff walked up to Seamus' desk and levelling his gaze with him said, "Let me put it this way, Mr Finnigan. You-Know-Who undoubtedly has weapons up his sleeve that everyone fears – weapons that no one could possibly imagine possessing. Can you tell me what they are?"

Seamus looked a little more confident and he replied without hesitation, "It's the killing curse – Avada Kedavra."

At this, Bickerstaff seemed disappointed and he whispered to Seamus, "Mr Finnigan, you don't seem to have got me, have you?"

Then, he raised his voice again and asked, "Who in this class agrees with Mr Finnigan?" Everyone raised their hands, some tentatively, some more confidently – everyone except Harry.

Bickerstaff smiled wryly once more. He looked at everyone once and then said, "Mr Potter, I believe you have a different answer."

At this, Harry felt Hermione looking concernedly at him. But ignoring that feeling, he said, "Fear and pain. These are Lord Voldemort's weapons for terrorising people."

As Harry said the Dark Lord's name, there was a collective gasp and shudder around the classroom. Only Harry himself, Hermione and Bickerstaff seemed to have remained unfazed.

"Would you like to elaborate?" the Professor entreated.

"Sure," Harry said, a little unwillingly. He was feeling extremely awkward and out-of-his-skin saying this but an unknown force from inside him persuaded him to go on – no that wouldn't be the right word, in fact, it was coercing him to continue.

"Lord Voldemort," Harry began, insistently ignoring the collective gasp that greeted the name, "is perhaps the most powerful wizard in the world, except maybe for Professor Dumbledore. We all know this and so does he. That's why we fear him; because we know that once we face him, we have come to the end. We know there is no escape route, no means to flee from the pain that he is bound to cause before he kills you in one stroke. He casts aside every possible aspersion of you being a competitor to him, before he murders you. And that's why you fear him, because of this foreplay. You fear him, because he's the spider and you are the fly caught in his web. He senses this fear and enjoys the pain that it causes. That is why he is the Dark Lord, because he enjoys others' pain and suffering; because, in some ways, pain for others is his pleasure."

At this, the whole class was stunned into silence. No one had ever heard Harry talk about Voldemort in such a way, not even Ron and Hermione.

Finally after the long, pregnant pause, Lavender Brown exclaimed, "But you escaped him, didn't you? How is that possible if what you said is true?"

At this, Professor Bickerstaff intervened and said, "Exactly! A very good question, Miss Brown, which brings us to the next important thing – courage. By courage and unceasing alertness, you may survive once, twice or even thrice. That's the most important thing – courage – and if you really want to fight what awaits you in the outside world, you need to be courageous, not recklessly so, but in a close, guarded manner. You courage needs to come from within."

"I know you all are interested in studying the Defense mechanisms and you will certainly learn all you can about that in this class. You will learn how to protect yourself from almost anything that will be thrown your way. Although it is equally true that at the crucial moment, it will eventually come down to you and you alone. Still, this class will train you in how to be prepared for the worst. Remember this when you make your choice regarding the subject."

After this, Professor Bickerstaff motioned his hand towards a table kept in a corner of the classroom and said, "All those who've already made their choices may sign their names there. If you haven't made your choice yet, you have until Saturday to decide."

At this, there was a flurry of activity and everyone got up to sign up for the class. Apparently, in view of the dark times, each student wanted to be prepared. By the time they were done, the bell rang and Professor Bickerstaff shouted out over the din, "Well see you in class, then!"

As the sixth-year Gryffindors made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch, they found themselves talking excitedly among themselves, about Bickerstaff and his class.

"Nutter," Ron was saying, "Complete nutter, I'd say, much like Moody. You know I noticed some similarities between the two of them. Maybe they are friends or relatives or something like that. Anyway, I think he knows his stuff though. At least, he will definitely teach us some spells.

Harry didn't bother to tell Ron that he was right on both counts. He just nodded dully. Hermione smiled sympathetically at him. She was the only one who had any inkling of the pain he had felt while speaking in the class about Voldemort, especially after last night.

Harry now felt the same sense of dread and panic he'd felt the previous night return to him. He found difficulty in even willing his mind to take the next step. He was even more daunted by the prospect of walking in and sitting amongst some two hundred odd students, who had nothing to worry about on their minds. He realised he could not do it. He had to go, free himself. Even his breathing seemed laboured and was caught in his throat. Ron and Hermione were about to enter the Great Hall, the latter of course, keeping an eye open for Harry.

"Harry, aren't you coming for lunch?" Ron asked, turning around to look at his best friend.

"No, you go on," Harry managed to gasp out, "I am not feeling very well. I'll just go to the dormitory and lie down for a while. I guess I'll be okay then."

Hermione looked askance at Harry, wondering what the matter really was. She asked him, "Come Harry, you are looking a bit pale. I'll come with you."

"No, it's okay," Harry said. Every word seemed to take up more of his energy than the previous. With that, he turned around and went up the stairs, soon disappearing out of sight.

Hermione stood there, looking after him, wondering if she should go after him. Ron touched her shoulder and said, "Come on, Hermione. Harry'll be okay. Get yourself something to eat first."

Hermione reluctantly followed Ron through the doors and sat down at the Gryffindor table, oblivious to all the noise that he fellow students were making around her.

Half an hour later, she was still picking and fretting over her food. Ron, meanwhile, was doing quite the opposite, stuffing his mouth disgustingly full with food. Finally, he noticed that Hermione had not touched her food.

He put down his fork and in a rare moment of sensitivity, said, "Okay, tell me what's the problem?"

Hermione looked at him and sighing, said, "It's Harry." And with that, she told him all that had happened the previous night.

Ron gave a low whistle as she ended the narrative. "Wow! I never thought he had it that bad."

"I'm really worried Ron," Hermione said, "I know he's hiding something. I think I should talk to him."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Ron said, "I see you won't be satisfied unless you do that."

Hermione got up, leaving behind an almost untouched plate of food and went to the dormitories to look for Harry. But he was not present there. So she successively went to each of the possible places where he might have gone to. She even went so far as to comb the entire length of the Quidditch pitch, looking for any sign of him. But Harry was nowhere to be found.

Finally, three hours later, she met up with Ron in the middle of a corridor and collapsed against him. She started sobbing as she said, "Ron, Harry…Harry isn't here."

Author's Note:

So there you have the Chapter Nine. Sorry for the massive delay, but I was kept too busy. I will be going camping tomorrow for three weeks' time with my friends. We intend to go trekking in the Himalayas, so I will be unavailable. Still, I hope to update as soon as I can. I'll be taking a notebook and pen along, but God must be wondering where I might get the opportunity of writing in midst of the snowy giants.

Anyway, thanks to all the reviewers who have reviewed the story so far. Now, I have decided to dedicate each new chapter to the best reviewer from the previous chapter. Hence the dedication to leprechaun at the beginning.


	11. Revelations and Heartbeats

Author's Note:

This chapter is dedicated to FSl, who as a Cho/Harry shipper has requested me to make this story Cho/Harry for so long, and yet even though I have not done so, has stuck with me and read each new chapter. Thanks.

I know it's very uncharacteristic of me to leave author's notes in the beginning of the chapter, but just to let you know that I am also posting the last part of the previous chapter along with this since I added it rather late and I don't know how many of you have read it. Also, this chapter contains a few suicidal thoughts, so proceed at your own peril.

**Last Part of Chapter Nine**

Hermione got up, leaving behind an almost untouched plate of food and went to the dormitories to look for Harry. But he was not present there. So she successively went to each of the possible places where he might have gone to. She even went so far as to comb the entire length of the Quidditch pitch, looking for any sign of him. But Harry was nowhere to be found.

Finally, three hours later, she met up with Ron in the middle of a corridor and collapsed against him. She started sobbing as she said, "Ron, Harry...Harry isn't here."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, trying to support a weak and hysterical Hermione. Of course, the fact that she hadn't eaten anything for ages didn't help her either.

"I looked everywhere for him," Hermione replied, "but I didn't find him anywhere. He is not in the dormitory, not on the Quidditch Pitch, not even around Hagrid's hut. I looked everywhere but couldn't find him. It seems he's just gone."

"Now don't be silly, Hermione," Ron consoled her, "He must be somewhere about the school. Maybe you forgot to look someplace or the other. Tell you what. We'll search for Harry once again, all right? We are bound to find him in a few minutes."

For once, Hermione was glad that Ron had this really laid-back attitude towards life. It helped her ever so slightly in making that feeling inside of her which was imagining things more gruesome and dreadful happening to Harry, subside down to controllable proportions.

So, both friends went on again, to go search for the third member of their trio in every possible place. But their search ended in vain. It was as if Harry had either vanished into the air or he really did not want to be found and was doing a very good job of it.

They made their way to the common room, Hermione hoping against hope that she would somehow find Harry sitting there. But of course, like everything you really want to make happen, it wasn't the case. Harry was nowhere in Gryffindor house.

As they entered the room, Hermione collapsed on a chair next to where Ginny was sitting with Neville and drawing her knees up to her chin, placed her head on her knees in a sign of despair and sadness. Ron too, sat on a chair beside Ginny.

"What happened?" Neville asked.

It was Ron who replied. Hermione was really too distraught to be able to answer anything. "We can't seem to find Harry anywhere," Ron said, "We've been looking for him since ages in every possible place, but he seems to have disappeared into thin air."

"Why? Where can he be?" Ginny said, just as Hermione gave a small squeal and said to Ron, as if he were the only person present there.

"Ron," she said, "I know how to find Harry. You know, the map."

It took a while for Ron's mind to register what Hermione had implied, but even as he comprehended her full meaning, he put a hand to his forehead and exclaimed, "Of course, I'll go and fetch it at once."

He dashed off upstairs to their room, even as Ginny and Neville looked on bewildered. They did not know about the existence of the Marauder's Map. They had questioning looks on their faces and Ginny asked, "What map were you talking about?"

It was now Hermione's turn to summon some quick thoughts to her mind, "Well, it's a spell that I call the map. You just need a little possession of the person you want to find, and you can find that person if he is within a particular perimeter from you."

She said this quite naturally, since she had indeed read about such as spell in the library. She was glad though that neither Ginny nor Neville questioned her. She waited with impatient anticipation for Ron to come down the stairs with the map.

Meanwhile, Ron was trying his frantic best to find the Marauder's Map in Harry's trunk. But the problem was that it seemed Harry had charmed his trunk shut with a password. Now he was trying to search his mind for the password, but he didn't seem to be getting it. He'd tried 'Quidditch', 'Ron', 'Snitch', 'The Golden Snitch', 'Sirius Black', 'Remus Lupin', 'Hogwarts', 'James', 'Lily', 'Hermione', even 'Dursley' and all other words that he could imagine as being a password, but all of his successive attempts had failed. Neville came in and lay down on his bed, not even asking Ron what he was doing. Maybe Hermione had told him something.

Finally, Ron was grumbling, "Way to go mate! You charm the trunk shut. Let 'Ron and Hermione' find a way ..." But what he was going to say after that, even he did not know since the trunk opened off on its own will. Ron gave a low whistle as he exclaimed, "So it's 'Ron and Hermione', of course." He quickly began rummaging through the contents of the trunk and finally found the object of his immediate attention and desire. He took the Marauder's Map and closing the trunk, dashed off down to the common room, where Hermione was impatiently waiting for him.

It had taken Ron more than half an hour to get the map from Harry's trunk, till when the whole common room had emptied and Hermione was left alone, pacing the room anxiously, muttering under her breath, "Harry, where are you?" and fighting the urge to go up to the boys' dormitory at the top of the tower and see for herself why Ron was taking so long.

Finally, Ron got the map down to the common room and they pored over it, trying to catch a glimpse of where Harry was. Just as they did so, they realise that a dot named Harry Potter was precisely outside the common room at that moment and even as that happened, the portrait hole swung open and in walked Harry, looking exhausted as if he'd been crushed under a boulder.

End of Chapter Nine

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**Revelations And Heartbeats**

Harry left Harry and Hermione in the Great Hall as they headed for lunch. Of course, he could pretty much do nothing except for breaking down and starting to scream. Yet, he surprising did nothing of that sort. His legs automatically carried him through the innumerable passages and corridors inside Hogwarts castle. There was an evident mechanical edge to his gait, which was indeed understandable since his mind was now reduced to a swirl of confused and despairing thoughts that he had no control over.

Suddenly, he found himself in front of a door, as if awaiting the thing that was on the other side. He thrust his hand forward without any force in his will and opened the door. He registered no surprise in his brain when he saw that the room was possibly the kind of setting where he could find comfort and solace in his suffering.

The room was bare except for a few bits of furniture here and there. It looked vaguely familiar, rather like the Gryffindor common room, yet very much unlike it. There was a small fireplace. The fire was lit and it cast a soft glow around the room. There were no windows, all in all it looked like the night was here – a perfect setting for introspection, reminiscing and grieving.

Harry went up to the cosy armchair that stood in front of the fire. His mind was numb. No remnant of any kind of reaction could be seen on his face. There was only a gaunt, hollow look on his face that bore the scars of his current mental state.

Memories flashed randomly across his mind, some memories he did not even know had existed. His days at the Dursleys...Dudley's gang chasing him at school...Aunt Marge letting Ripper lose after him...Hagrid taking him to Diagon Alley for the first time...the incident with the troll at Halloween during first year...the journey to the Chamber of Secrets...his first meeting with Sirius...the loss of his old Nimbus 2000...his name appearing from the Goblet of Fire...going past the Hungarian Horntail...Cedric's death...watching Voldemort regain his form...his dreams of the Department of Mysteries...the previous summer he spent at the Dursleys' home...Sirius' loss...the revelation of the prophecy...the attack on Hermione's parents...spending the summer with her...the huge conflict with Ron...all these memories and many more flashed through Harry's mind like a filmstrip as he relived his whole life in those moments, with the stress being more on the despair he had felt over the years. Very few good memories penetrated the worst ones while occasionally, a good memory would come and disappear like a wisp of cloud blown away by the wind.

After what seemed to Harry like agonisingly, long, painful moments, the benumbing feeling that had started growing inside of him began to subside and his thoughts gained more clarity. This was however, no help since they seemed out of his control and were all focussed on the worst moments of his life – almost as if they were intent on drowning him in an ocean of depression, grief and sadness.

Suddenly, Harry felt a presence in the room. He saw, before his very own eyes, a window appearing on the hitherto unclosed wall, looking all the way to the Ground level, situated seven levels down. Harry went up to the window and wondered how it would feel to take that one step which would free him from all his pains, all his burden. He decided to test himself further.

Harry climbed up to the wide and high window-sill. One step now separated him from being where he was, to being one with the air, hurtling down at unimaginable speeds. Harry imagined himself in the latter situation and smiled at himself. He felt no relief, no joy, nor any pain. It was as if the depressed thoughts would not grant justice even to his death.

"I am going to jump from up here," Harry said aloud to himself, "I am going to die." With that, he raised one foot and suspended it forward. All he needed now was a small gesture with his other foot, a shift in his body weight and it would all be over.

* * *

It was three in the morning, if you could call three a.m. morning. Albus Dumbledore was sitting his office behind his desk, talking to Professor Elijah Bickerstaff. The professor, on his return to Hogwarts after a long hiatus, seemed to have blended in with the atmosphere of the school as easily as a fish takes to water. He was currently talking with Dumbledore on the matter of starting a Defense club in the school.

Dumbledore was listening to Bickerstaff with an eager ear. He had long realised that one of the perks of being Albus Dumbledore, whether in his capacity as the Headmaster of Hogwarts or in his status as the leader of the Light, against Dark, was that one got little time to rest. As a result, he had long since tuned his body to rest even while in the state of waking.

"I mean all the other subject have their own clubs after school hours, all except Defense Against the Dark Arts," Bickerstaff was saying, "I mean it will be the most sensible thing there is if we started this thing."

"You forget," Dumbledore said merrily, "There is no club for Divination."

Bickerstaff rolled his eyes as Dumbledore said this and popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth. "That subject is nothing but a load of guesswork and Trelawney is an old hag." Bickerstaff said.

"Elijah," Dumbledore said, "Make sure that the students don't hear your opinion of Sybil Trelawney. And you forget Firenze, although I don't think he'll approve of calling a Divination club, a club. And I need not remind you that Sybil Trelawney was the reason why we received a prior lead regarding Lord Voldemort's fall and sixteen years later, his return."

"All right," Bickerstaff said, "But I was talking about the Defense club. You cannot deny this. Hogwarts need a place where the students can learn some extra useful spells besides their regular schoolwork."

"I agree," Dumbledore replied, "But you have to let the students take an initiative in this. That's a prerogative for the commencement of all the school clubs."

"Since when have you been a strict follower of rules, Dumbledore?" Bickerstaff asked, a wry smile on his face.

"Every time when following rules has been necessary," Dumbledore replied, the twinkle ever present in his eyes during those moments.

"In any case, I think maybe you should wait until a student comes forward with an idea on similar lines," Dumbledore finished. "I think someone will do that once they have lots more support than last year."

"There was a club last year?" Bickerstaff asked.

"Yes, an illegal one," Dumbledore replied, "I daresay you might have heard about it. Gave Dolores Umbridge quite a headache."

"Yes, yes, come to think of it, now I remember," Bickerstaff said, "I believe the Weasley twins told me all about it and other things that occurred here last year when I asked them why they left Hogwarts without appearing for the NEWTs. They called this, well; there was this interesting name..."

"Dumbledore Army," Dumbledore replied, the amusement in his voice clearly evident. "It had quite a few repercussions on the management of the school."

Bickerstaff nodded. He knew the story only too well, as did the rest of the Order. It had ballooned into a very serious matter, with Dumbledore having to leave the school and Hogwarts getting purged of practically all Order members for some time later that academic year.

"So, do you have any ideas as to who might be the one to take initiative in the club?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Bickerstaff replied, "But I daresay Mr Potter would be interested. I think he might be the one."

"I wouldn't think so," Dumbledore said, in return, "Harry's skills at organising, well, let's just say that he isn't the best one at organising things, certainly not when Miss Granger isn't around. It's more like he and Mr Weasley are more adept at breaking rules than abiding by them. Miss Granger, on the other hand, is the one who keeps a tab on them."

Bickerstaff smiled, as if he were recalling some fair memories. He said, "Of course, I didn't think of that. Sort of, like father, like son, isn't it?"

There was a pause after this that signified a sense of familiarity sweeping the room.

"So," Bickerstaff began, "Any news of You-Know-Who?"

"Yes and no," Dumbledore replied, "There has been a mild increase in the attacks on Muggles but Lord Voldemort's plans for the wizarding world aren't yet in motion. I think at the immediate moment, he is just content at entertaining himself with torturing poor Muggles. In any way, he also needs the support of more Death Eaters, the ones who were captured in the Department of Mysteries last year not the least among them."

"And the thing about the sign of the Raven?" Bickerstaff questioned.

"It hasn't appeared since the attack on the Granger house," Dumbledore answered, "It has caused me to have some doubts in my mind, regarding the theory that I had for their appearance."

"So, another day ends, and the uneasy calm remains," Bickerstaff said dramatically, almost in a rhetorical fashion, as if he were announcing the fact to the entire room. The portraits of the ex-Headmasters and Headmistresses that graced the walls of the room were patiently and attentively listening to this conversation.

Dumbledore sighed. "It's only a matter of time now. Either way, we have little hope of fighting him and winning."

"You seem to have forgotten Mr Potter's role in all this, Dumbledore," Bickerstaff retorted, "and the prophecy as well." He added the last bit after a brief pause.

"Don't you think, Elijah, that your faith and confidence in Harry runs into the risk of being over-confidence and complacency?" Dumbledore said. It was a plain statement made by the old Headmaster but it held within itself, the meaning that he had wanted to convey, nonetheless.

But Bickerstaff was not touched by this. "Dumbledore, don't you think that your faith in Mr Potter is floundering?" he responded.

"Faith is one thing, Elijah," Dumbledore said, "but burdening Harry with the world full of expectations is another."

There was long, pregnant pause after Dumbledore uttered the last sentence. Dumbledore recalled the happenings of earlier that night...

_Flashback_

"_I am going to jump from up here," Harry said aloud to himself, "I am going to die." With that, he raised one foot and suspended it forward. All he needed now was a small gesture with his other foot, a shift in his body weight and it would all be over._

_Harry stood in that position for a long while. His mind was a bizarre cloud of confounding resolves and he couldn't bring himself to either taking that final step or to retreat to safety. He curiously felt nothing, not even a remote feeling related to anything whatsoever. He wondered if this was indeed the moment when everything would end for him, then why was he devoid of any thought. Why was his mind completely numb? It was not supposed to be like this. He heard that a person often felt his own life, completely and quickly unfolding before one's own eyes, moments prior to one's death. But he felt nothing._

_Was this how the rush of death was supposed to feel? Harry waited for the slightest sign as to what he should do, whether he should take the last step. But he received no sign, no indication as to what he should do. Finally, he sighed and withdrew his foot. He sat down on the window-sill, much like he had done on his first night at Hogwarts albeit that was in his own dormitory. He looked over the Hogwarts grounds and over the trees of the Forbidden Forest at the setting sun. Somehow, a sense of irony hit him. The setting sun was perhaps the epitome of his life. Every time he hoped for something to happen, every time hope swelled in his chest and rose to a high point much like the sun's journey before noon but then everything began sliding down till such time as no hope remained, much like the dusk that followed the sunset._

_Suddenly, an all too familiar voice came from across the room, "I'm glad you decided to take that step back." Harry groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted now was a one-on-one session with Albus Dumbledore._

"_I bet you had known it all along," Harry said, trying to vent some of his pent-up frustration and anger on the ancient wizard, as he had done on a night not very long ago. "I bet you had always know that I would stand here and then slowly draw back, that you would then gloat over me about how I was sensible doing what I did. Isn't it why you have come?"_

_Dumbledore walked up to the window-sill and as he approached, a squashy blue arm-chair appeared out of nowhere and lodged itself facing the window-sill where Harry was perched. Dumbledore walked over slowly and took a seat. He studies Harry's features carefully. Yes, there was pain...pain that was so evident in those most expressive emerald eyes. Every angle of that face was lined with intense pain, worry and exhaustion._

_Dumbledore finally said, "You don't really believe that, do you, Harry? Even the wisest person cannot predict what the future holds. And I certainly am not the wisest person around. The future holds many mysteries for us, Harry; and those mysteries are never disclosed to us till such time as we are ready to face them. That is what makes life so colourful. What you are talking about...it was your chose, and I believe you chose wisely."_

"_Don't give me that load of dung!" Harry replied, the numbness in his brain being replaced by an inexplicable and sudden anger. "If the future could not be foreseen, then there would have been no seers. There wouldn't have been any prophecy. My fate wouldn't have been decided for me, without my own consent."_

_Dumbledore looked at Harry with that monstrous feeling called pity in his eyes. Yes, he considered the greatest virtue, the greatest quality that made human beings human – pity – to be monstrous; because it was the epitome of everything weak in man. It tore his heart out to see the young man before him languishing in the depths of despair and sorrow. It became one of those rare moments when Albus Dumbledore, considered by most as the most powerful wizard alive, didn't know what to do. Here was Harry Potter, the only hope of the wizarding world in a losing battle against the dark, smothered under guilt, depression and wallowing in self-pity. So, he began chanting softly, almost in an inaudible voice:_

_Long ago the wizards came,_

_Aboard great ships blue and white,_

_They brought with them the magical fires,_

_They brought with them the magical light._

_The five wizards then chose their dens,_

_And vowed to repel evil again and again._

_They passed their powers to others,_

_To those worthy of calling them mine;_

_They then left the earth behind,_

_Having battled evil in their time,_

_Leaving behind their followers to do the same,_

_And their footprints on the sands of time._

_And thus, the process gradually began,_

_Of fighting for the manhood of man;_

_And so, each time evil takes ground,_

_One man must come around,_

_And assume the reins of the quest,_

_To put evil to the test._

_Once again the time approaches,_

_When the fight between good and evil poaches,_

_The minds and hearts of all, _

_And tears away the soul with a call._

_At such time, a saviour will rise,_

_From amidst the ruins of war,_

_And assume the power into which he was born;_

_He shall fight the evil and._

_Lead his people to a wonderful, new dawn._

"_What was that?" Harry asked sullenly, his inquisitiveness getting the better of him._

"_That was an ancient hymn, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "so ancient in fact, that I do not think it is in anyone's memory at this current day. You will understand this some day and when you will, you will find yourself prepared for anything and everything. For now, I will confide in you that I had read it years ago in a book, a book that I believe is now in your possession."_

_Harry at first did not understand what Dumbledore meant until he remembered the book that he had seen in a corner of Flourish and Blotts, and had subsequently purchased. "Been spying on me again, have you?" Harry asked, a strong hint of bitterness creeping into his voice._

"_No, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "I see that I need to clarify things here. You see, the book under consideration, it is a very important book. In simple words, you could just say that it contains the very essence of magic. Let me just say for the moment that you wouldn't have found that book, unless you were meant to find it. Due to the fact that it is a very powerful tool, that can do wrong things in wrong hands, I had asked Mr Greenwich, you know, he is the owner of Flourish and Blotts-"_

"_I know who Mr Greenwich is," Harry interrupted impatiently, wanting to hear very eagerly the next part and at the same time, not wanting to be privy to this conversation either._

"_Of course," Dumbledore continued, "Anyway, I had asked Mr Greenwich to inform me about who bought the book. I had a sneaking suspicion that someday you would be the one. It seems that I was correct."_

"_Why not," Harry said, his voice dripping heavily with sarcasm and his anger of old returning to him. "The great Albus Dumbledore is never wrong. He knows everything. Even when he manipulates everyone's lives, he claims he is doing so for their own good. And everyone believes him. After all, doesn't the great Albus Dumbledore know everything?"_

"_Do you really think I manipulate people's lives?" Dumbledore asked, looking mildly interested._

"_You manipulated mine; and Sirius' when he was still alive," Harry added, after a pause. The thought of Sirius made his blood boil with the memory of another night at Hogwarts nearly two months ago. He couldn't just bear to look at that ancient face again, etched in pity and wisdom._

"_I was trying to keep both of you alive," Dumbledore said._

"_You failed in Sirius' case, didn't you?" Harry retorted._

_For a while, Dumbledore looked as if the words had pierced his heart. But then, he sighed, "Yes, I did. I failed in that."_

_There was a moment of silence after which Dumbledore asked Harry, "Tell me Harry, are you angry?"_

_It was a simple question. "Yes," Harry replied._

"_Are you frightened?" Dumbledore asked again._

_It was an even simpler question. "Yes," came Harry's answer._

"_Do you know the reason of your fear?"_

_The question was as simple as could be. "Yes," Harry replied again, wondering in his heart where Dumbledore was getting to._

"_Can you tell me then?" Dumbledore asked for the last time._

_It was the simplest question he had asked. But suddenly, Harry found he had no answer. "I don't know," he whispered, his voice barely audible yet it seemed to echo off the walls of the room._

_Dumbledore did not say anything. He just waited for Harry to continue, which he did, "I feel I have lost myself. Ever since...ever since he died." Harry couldn't bring himself to say Sirius' name; it was so painful. "Ever since he died, ever since I came to know about the prophecy, I don't know who I am. It's like I am in this big, black space alone and there is nothing that I can do to leave. There is nothing that I can do to defeat the evil that surrounds us._

"_Those who know about the prophecy might expect me to do what they hope for. Indeed, they expect me to defeat Voldemort and traverse the path that the prophecy has laid before me, and I would, believe me I would...but...but it's just that I do not know the way...I do not know if I am strong enough."_

_Dumbledore got up from his chair and walked over to where Harry was sitting. As he did that the armchair vanished by itself. He walked over and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, who did not seem to notice, however and continued, "I am not like you, Professor. Neither am I like my father, or my mother. All those times I faced Voldemort, I was fighting for my own survival but henceforth, it will always be different. I know that in my heart. That I will always carry the weight of our joined fates whenever I come face-to-face with him. I don't think I can handle that, Professor. I don't think I have enough strength in me to face the choice that has been laid before me."_

_Dumbledore squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly. Harry looked up at him and gave him a grateful look._

_Dumbledore said, "I have told you this before, Harry. The prophecy would not have been made regarding you if you didn't have strength enough. All you need to do, Harry, is to find where that strength lies. I shall not say that Lord Voldemort is not more powerful that you, nor shall I say that we hold the upper hand in this war. But what I will say is that I believe when the time comes, you will find yourself ready. And you will find beside yourself, such people who will be willing to do so by your side and sacrifice their lives for you, if need be. If you have any doubts regarding this, just remember the hymn I recited earlier."_

_They remained there like that, both Headmaster and pupil, gazing out onto the Hogwarts grounds, watching the moon shining on the tree-tops of the Forbidden Forest. Harry wondered which creatures might be awake inside at that moment. He wondered what the centaurs might be doing, and what was going on with Aragog and his children, what the Thestrals were doing and what had happened to Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp. Finally, he felt as if a shadow was lifted from his heart and mind. He said, "Thank you, Sir."_

"_Why so, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired. Harry wasn't quite sure if the old wizard was feigning surprise at his gratitude or not._

"_For listening me out patiently, after all I've said to you over the past months," Harry replied earnestly._

"_Believe me Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily, "It was my pleasure." After a short pause, he added, "So I take that you are feeling better already."_

"_Yes, sir," Harry replied._

"_But you don't look so well, do you?" Dumbledore said, "I think after this ordeal, you need some rest. I prescribe for you some sleep in your dormitory. What do you think?"_

_Harry nodded. He stood up gingerly; it was as if he had forgotten to walk and was learning it all over again. He walked with Dumbledore across the room._

"_So where are we?" Harry asked. "I didn't quite pay attention while coming."_

"_I doubt you did," Dumbledore chuckled. "This is the Room of Requirement. It seems you wanted to be lonely in such a place, where you could find solace and the room conjured up that image in your mind for real."_

_Harry nodded again. Dumbledore opened the door and they stepped into the corridor outside. As soon as the Headmaster closed the door, it disappeared, leaving a solid stone wall behind. Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled, "This place never ceases to amaze me."_

"_Harry," Dumbledore said as both of them stood there, waiting to part ways, "I daresay that Mr Weasley and Miss Granger would be worried sick waiting and searching for you. I would advise you to tell them everything. Sometimes, you may find that there are some secrets that may become your strength if you choose to divulge them. The only thing is which secret and to whom. That is an old man's advice to you."_

_Harry nodded again, even though he only got the general meaning of the Headmaster's advice._

"_Sir, one last question," Harry said, "How did you know I was here, in the Room of Requirement?" _

"_Harry, you will learn some day that there are certain privileges attached with being the Headmaster of Hogwarts." With that Dumbledore walked away, leaving behind Harry who was feeling that Dumbledore had just now told him a way of rephrasing the sentence, "You wouldn't want to know."_

_End of flashback_

"Dumbledore," Bickerstaff's voice sounded around the room. "What is it?"

Dumbledore blinked his eyes as he forced his mind to put the memory on the backburner. "Nothing," he said, "Just thinking about Harry...I still think he needs more time."

"But there is no time, Dumbledore," Bickerstaff replied, "War is upon us. There is no way we can give him time."

"Believe me, Elijah," Dumbledore said, "Something will happen that will give Harry the time to prepare. I have a very strong feeling about this. I am not talking about the time we need to give him to prepare. I am talking about the time we need to give him to cure his wounds, to close them completely. It is only when his mind and heart are cured that he will believe in himself and start preparing himself for the war. Till then, we will have to give him time, and some space. If we can't, we will have to buy him some time."

"Your mind works in a fashion I will never fathom," Bickerstaff said, "But I do have one question. Do you think it will be long?"

"No, I don't think so," Dumbledore replied, "From what I saw today, I can see that the healing process has already begun. No, it won't be too long. I would make it two or three months, six at the most."

"That's all I need to know then," Bickerstaff said, and he got up. "I have to prepare for a lesson on Kappas for the third years tomorrow."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said, a smile lighting his wrinkled features.

"Keep me updated, will you," Bickerstaff said, as he reached the door, "You know, it's nice to be back at Hogwarts but one think that I do dislike here is you are the only source of information here."

Dumbledore slightly tipped his head to one side, to indicate that he acknowledged. As Bickerstaff left, he took out a pocket-watch with twelve hands from his left pocket. He looked it over and decided there were fifteen minutes more remaining. So he waited, thinking of what he was going to say now.

* * *

Harry entered the Gryffindor common room looking so exhausted as if he had been crushed under a boulder. Hermione looked at him and then running across the length of the common room, she flung herself at Harry and hugged him fiercely, as if she would never let him go. Ron looked on patiently.

"Hermione, sorry to interrupt this," Harry said weakly, feeling as if he would suffocate in Hermione's tight embrace, "But I really need to breathe."

"Sorry," Hermione said as she pulled away.

Ron, on the other hand, looked defiant. "You have some explaining to do, Harry," he said.

Harry looked quizzically at Ron; at least he tried to put up the charade. He knew in his sinking heart that the moment of truth had come. He had to explain himself, or risk the very friendships he had come to treasure. He might have considered doing so some other time, when he would have found himself overcome by the feeling of noble sacrifice which could make his friends safe from the Dark Lord and his minions. But for the time being, he had adamant, angry friends to answer to.

"Don't give me that look," Ron said, "You are going to tell us where you have been. You are going to tell us what's going on and you are going to do it now."

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione seconded Ron's view, "We are worried sick about you. You must tell us what it happening and why all this is happening; why you are doing this. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you are shutting us out of your heart."

Harry sighed inwardly. There was no way he could escape. His friends knew him too well for that. But he still made that last ditch attempt, "Honestly, it's nothing you two. Will you stop bugging me?"

"No," Ron replied, adamantly.

"Harry," Hermione said in a soothing voice, "Harry, please don't do this to yourself. Why are you bottling your feelings inside of you? Why do you want to do that, while we are here to listen to you?"

Now, Ron came up to Harry and said, "Harry, mate, all these years, we have been friends. Don't you trust us in this?"

Harry shook his head. He detached himself from Hermione and took a seat on the couch by the fireplace. Both Ron and Hermione took this as a cue and seated themselves – Hermione next to Harry and Ron on the opposite armchair. Harry stared at the fire, still burning merrily in the grate, much like it had once when he had talked to Sirius via the Floo network.

"It's not about trust," he said finally, "It's just that...just that you...you two cannot do anything in this to help me."

Ron looked slightly as if he had not got Harry. Hermione, on the other hand, asked him softly, "Harry, is this about Sirius?"

Harry sighed and said, "Yes and no. It is true that I miss Sirius terribly. In fact, not a day has gone by when I don't regret my foolishness in going to the Ministry that night. Ever since we returned to Hogwarts, I have been chiding myself even more. If only I had listened to you, Hermione! If only I had listened to you that evening! If only I had stopped and thought about all that sensibly for a while! But no, I had to play the hero. I had to go and find out whether everything was real or it was just a phoney vision.

"I spent all my summer alone thinking of things, yet trying not to think about them at the same time, not to feel the pain that threatened to rip my heart and mind into pieces. And then after your parents had been attacked, Hermione, it was like I was too pre-occupied to think about Sirius and I kind of like it. I know what I did was monstrous, what I felt was monstrous – something that only someone so evil as Voldemort would have felt. And I felt it. I was guilty of something so heinous."

"No Harry," Hermione broke in, "You did the perfectly logical thing. You felt what every human in the world would have felt had he been in your position. That doesn't make you a monster, Harry. It only proves that you are human and it makes you stronger than ever. You are not to blame for this, Harry, nor for Sirius' death. It wasn't your fault that Sirius died."

"How many times do you think I have heard that sentence from Dumbledore?" Harry said. "You think such false words can make me feel better? Well, frankly, they don't. I am old enough to know that nothing else is going to change the truth."

There was an uneasy silence that followed this, which Hermione broke, saying, "Harry, we could tell you repeatedly, both Ron and I, that none of this is your fault. We could continue telling you this all night, yet you would not believe us. But if there is a way, if only you knew somehow to look into our thoughts and read our minds, you will find that no one blames you for Sirius' death. It was not because of you that Sirius died; it was because of Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

"Hermione is right, Harry," Ron said, "It's not your fault. Sirius was a friend to all of us. All of us suffered when he died. But look at us; is any one of us blaming himself for Sirius' death? No! Because Sirius died after fighting a hero's battle."

"You two don't understand," Harry said quietly, "Everyone, I mean each and everyone I've ever been close to – my parents, Sirius – Voldemort killed them all. Even the attack on your parents, Hermione, and the other one on the Burrow, all those things happened because both of you are my friends and I love you for that. It's not only the war. It's the personal battle between Voldemort and I. Sirius got caught in that because I loved him, and so, he was killed. I don't want anyone else to meet the same fate. I don't want anyone else to die. I don't think I could take that."

There was another long, pregnant pause after this. No sound was made by either of the three of them. The only noise was that of the fire crackling merrily in the grate. Harry felt the warmth of the fire, but he felt as if the warmth did not reach his insides. It did not penetrate his skin and remained confined to the exterior only.

"Tell me, Harry," Hermione said quietly, "Is it only about Sirius, or is it about something else as well?"

Harry looked closely at Hermione, wondering if she had somehow managed to learn Leglimens. With Hermione, you could never tell. She wasn't called the smartest witch ever to come to Hogwarts for nothing.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked quickly, as he tried to remain nonplussed at the same time.

"I know you too well, Harry," Hermione said gently, "This isn't only about Sirius' death, the way I see it. From what I have known about you over the years, it is something more."

Ron watched this exchange between his friends with great interest. It was as if an unknown understanding had sprung up between his friends, an understanding and a comfort level that he could never hope to reach, or to penetrate. It was in that moment that Ron realised why Hermione and Harry should be together as opposed to the question 'Why are Harry and Hermione together?' that had plagued his mind in the first place. Indeed, he realise now that Hermione knew more about Harry and Harry more about Hermione than he could ever hope to. If Ron didn't know any better, he'd have called it a 'match made in the heavens'. But for some reason, the relationship between his friends appeared to him to be more sacred, more sanctified than he could ever have imagined anything else of being. It was as if he could see their auras around them, and those auras had mingled with each other.

Harry looked strangely at Hermione for a moment and then as if he had reached a decision at last, his face relaxed (although it didn't lose any of the pain that was reflected there. It seemed more like he had accepted the pain as a part of his own identity) Then he said, "You're right. There is something else. But I don't know how to tell you this. It will probably shock you more than anything else."

Ron now felt that it was his duty to speak something. So he said, "Why don't you try, Harry? I am Sure both Hermione and I have enough time to listen to you."

Harry nodded. "I just don't know where to begin." He said.

"Try starting from the beginning," Ron suggested, trying his best to be helpful. "Mum always says when in down, start right from the beginning."

Harry complied. "Well, I guess, it starts off even before I was born, with Voldemort, trying to kill me," Harry began, "The reason why he tried to kill me is because of a prophecy that was made before my birth."

"Was it the one Neville lost and it broke in the Department of Mysteries?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Don't interrupt him," Ron hissed to her.

Harry however continued (he realised once again that he had taken the first step to solving the problem at hand since he had begun speaking), "Yes, the same one. It was made by Trelawney and Dumbledore was the one to hear it. The prophecy at the Ministry was only a copy. Anyway, Dumbledore told me all about the prophecy the night when Sirius died." As he said the last part, the pitch of Harry's voice dropped almost to the tone of a quiet whisper.

"What did it say?" Ron asked, in a breathless voice.

"Ron, I believe you told me not to interrupt," Hermione said. It was now her turn to flare up.

Harry ignored this banter and said, "The prophecy...it said..._The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies_ ... _and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have_

_power the Dark Lord knows not_ ... _and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_ ... _the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_ ...'

(Courtesy: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

"What did that mean?" Ron asked.

"It meant that," Harry began, "that I have to kill Voldemort or Voldemort has to kill me. That is the only way this war can end. Voldemort does know the whole prophecy; he knows only the first half of it and so he tried to kill me. In the process, he marked me as an equal and was reduced to a malicious spirit himself. Since regaining form, he has been trying to get to the prophecy in its fullest form." With that, Harry told Ron and Hermione the complete story; he told them everything Dumbledore had told him on that fateful night many days ago.

When Harry had finished, Ron let out a low whistle and said absent-mindedly, "And I thought I was keeping the biggest secret from you by not telling you yet that I have been appointed the Gryffindor Quidditch captain."

"What?" Both Harry and Hermione said in unison.

"Yeah," Ron said, "I got the letter over the summer. I am sorry I kept it from both of you though."

"It's okay, Ron," Harry said, with a slight laugh, "If we have to start saying sorry for all we've kept from each other, I'd have to say it a number of times for not telling both of you about the prophecy; and Hermione would have to apologize many times over for hiding the Time-Turner during third year."

This earned a good laugh from both Ron and Harry. Hermione, on the other hand, looked indignant. "Professor McGonagall told me to..." she began hotly, but Ron interrupted her.

"McGonagall might have told you," Ron said, "But you still hid it, didn't you?" Hermione rolled her eyes at this remark.

"Anyway," Harry said, seeing that an argument was about to flare up, and acting as a mediator, he continued, "I'm glad, it's nothing more, Ron. I wondered for a moment if you were about to say that you worked for Voldemort or something like that."

"Oh, you might never know with me," Ron said, a bit too earnestly so as to be true. "I might be doing that now and you wouldn't know...Of course, I'm not though. I was only joking." He added hastily, seeing the wary looks on his friends' faces.

Harry was the first one to recover from hearing what Ron had just said. He gave a short laugh and said, "You gave me a scare, mate. To think that my best friend is a deadly monster!" Harry feigned a melodramatic expression of fear at this and Ron sniggered at his poor imitation.

"Anyways, mate," Harry said sincerely, "Congratulations! I hope you put together the strongest Quidditch team Hogwarts has ever seen."

"Thanks, mate," Ron replied, "But for the time being, I don't think I am up to that task. My mind works better when I have had a few hours' sleep. So, boys and girls, I'm off to bed. Harry, mate, are you coming up too?" he asked.

"No, I'll come up later," Harry replied.

"Okay," Ron said or rather shouted from the foot of the staircase, "But both of you, mind it well, don't go on doing something that I wouldn't." With that, he went away up to the dorms.

Harry smiled as Ron went. As he turned his attention towards Hermione, he found her gazing fondly at him.

"What?" he asked, seeing her look at him like that.

"Nothing," she replied, "It's just that it's so nice to see you smile again."

Harry nodded and once again, an air of familiarity swept the room. Hermione put her head on Harry's shoulder and put her arms around him.

"So how are you feeling, Harry?" she asked him.

"As if I am the lightest person in the world," Harry replied, "I feel as if a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

"Indeed," said Hermione, "Am I glad to hear that?"

After a short while, she spoke up again, as she lazily drew circles on Harry's stomach, "Harry, can you promise me something?"

"Sure Hermione," he said, "Anything for you."

"The other night, Harry," she said. "The state I saw you in...I shudder to think of what would have happened if someone else with opposite intentions might have found you. Promise me, Harry, that whatever happens, you will never let yourself degenerate into that state again. Promise me, Harry that, whenever you feel confused, lonely or uncertain, you will come and tell me everything."

Harry looked down at Hermione's face and saw tears glistening in her eyes. She looked so beautiful and vulnerable to his eyes. At that moment, Harry understood the limitless love that Hermione felt for him. And more importantly, he finally felt something deep stirring inside his heart, and he knew instantly that if there were to be any future for him, if he were asked to name a person with who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, it would be her.

He took Hermione in her arms and said, "Hermione, you have been a wonderful friend to me and even as I sit here, I feel how precious you are to me. I have come to realize, Hermione, that I love you. Remember that time when I asked you for more time to sort out my feelings? Well, I don't need any more time, because, I know now, for certain, that the only thing in my heart for you, the only feeling for you is love. I love you, Hermione, and I promise you what you asked for. I don't mind facing anything in this world, so long as I find you beside me. I pledge to you my love, my soul, my heart and my mind, Hermione, everything except for my life, for I do not think it is mind to give to you. As for everything else I possess, it is yours!"

"Oh Harry!" Hermione squeaked and she embraced him in yet another tight hug, tears of joy streaming silently down her cheeks.

They pulled apart again, and as Harry looked down at her, their faces drew closer and closer, until they finally met and it seemed to Harry that this kiss that he shared with Hermione was better than any till now. It was a long, passionate kiss and it conveyed to either of them, the intensity of their feelings and the joy of having those feelings reciprocated. They pulled apart for air, whose need now seemed so cumbersome, so irritating, and so unnecessary. They had each other and they needed no one else.

They kissed and kissed, repeatedly, taking things slow, letting the physical part of their relationship go along slowly. Neither of them wanted to increase the pace or to pressurize the other; they just wanted to feel the raw feeling of excitement the other's presence elicited in them.

Finally, they lay on the couch. Hermione suddenly looked at Harry's watch as she lay (albeit fully clothed) over Harry, who in turn, lay on the couch. Her head was on the crook of his neck and he held her close to himself.

"Lawks!" exclaimed Hermione, "It's four. We must go back to our dorms."

"What in the name of heaven!" Harry exclaimed, "Lawks? What was that?"

"Just a little expression I once picked up in my childhood," Hermione said giggling, "It tends to slip out of my tongue sometimes. Anyway, we both need to go back to our dorms or we will be missed."

"Oh no," Harry replied, "Ron knows."

"But my room-mates don't," Hermione replied.

"Oh," Harry asked sweetly, retaining on his face the best puppy dog expression he could muster for Hermione to see, "Do we need to? Can't we stay down here like this, together?"

"No, we can't," Hermione said laughing, "And don't pout. It really tests my will."

So they got up and separated into their own ways to their dorms, though not without sharing a long and heated good-night kiss.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed, after the kiss ended.

"It seems you have much to learn, Mr Potter," Hermione said, giggling.

"I do believe you are trying to seduce me, Miss Granger," Harry said playfully.

"Who? Me?" Hermione said, feigning surprise. Then she whispered seductively in his ear, "I wouldn't dream of it, would I? After all, I love you."

"I love you too," Harry said, longing for her touch.

With that, she walked up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, leaving behind Harry with a vigorous throbbing in the lower part of his stomach.

Later, while Harry undressed and prepared to go to bed, he remembered something as words came floating into his mind-

_At such time, a saviour will rise,_

_From amidst the ruins of war,_

_And assume the power into which he was born;_

_He shall fight the evil and._

_Lead his people to a wonderful, new dawn._

Harry however, did not stop to consider this. Her merely laid his head on the pillow and went to sleep, his heart lighter than it had been for many days and his mind dreaming only of one person, his love, Hermione.

* * *

Author's Note:

Well, so there it is over. This chapter is now officially the hardest thing I have written in this story, mainly because I had to find a proper way to make Harry reveal everything. Especially hard was that attempt on poetry, but I daresay it is much better than the Sorting Hat's song. Maybe I can be a poet after all. LOL.

Jokes aside, I had a wonderful trip and I have now returned full of zeal, I think, to continue the story. Somehow, trekking and climbing at 22,000 feet in cold and snow has changed me a lot (I hope for the better) and I hope that the change (if for the good) reflects in my writing as well.

I have also started a new story, for those of you who do not know. It is R-rated and is called 'The Survivor'. In case you are interested, please go and read it, and don't forget to leave a review. By the speaking of reviews, I have got a few of those, here at Thanks to all those who have reviewed, and even those who have read the story but not reviewed. Thank you one and all for reading. A special thanks to all the reviewers though.

I hope this story is getting to be better by the day. There are so many wonderful authors out there who have written such wonderful works of fanfiction that it is hard to believe one is not reading cannon. I hope I will be successful in carving a niche somewhere in the fanfiction world with my stories, that's my wish.

Anyway, I guess I am rambling now. So I will leave you to do better things for the moment. Goodbye for now, meet you soon.

P.S. Please read and review. It really encourages you to write more, faster and better.


	12. The Last Days of Peace

**Chapter Eleven**

**The Last Days of Peace**

The remaining days of the week passed off happily and more importantly, without event and soon the weekend descended upon the students of Hogwarts. By the time it had, though, the sixth-years were subjected to quite rigorous counselling sessions and had already signed up for the required subjects. Harry had taken Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Potions ('Eww!' Ron said when he heard that, 'At least I am free from Snape's tyranny this time around.'), the subjects he would require for his Auror training. Besides, he had also enlisted for Herbology on Hermione's advice, since it would help him in his Potions work; and Care of Magical Creatures, mostly to express his support for Hagrid. Ron, on the other hand, had taken up Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures. He'd said that he wouldn't mind being a Dragon trainer like Charlie, even though being a Quidditch player was still on top of the list of his priorities. Hermione, however, to no one's surprise, was taking the maximum number of classes. She had taken Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. She told Harry that all these eight classes were vital for her to become a Healer.

When he heard about the number of classes Hermione was going to take, Harry cautioned her. "Be careful." He told her. "We don't need another fiasco like third year. And don't forget about yourself…or about me." He added the last part to the sentence with a grin and a slight blush on the cheek.

Hermione looked at Harry and found herself nearly swooning at the way he was looking at her. She felt as if she would melt into a puddle right then and there. She went closer to Harry and kissed him on the lips. It was a chaste kiss but the sensations that it created were all the more breath-taking for the both of them. Hermione pulled away, making Harry feel extremely unsatisfied, and said, "I could never forget you, Harry; even of I forgot myself."

That was almost too much for Harry. He quickly pulled her closer to himself and kissed her fully on the lips hungrily. It felt so wonderful to Harry as he revelled in the rich, creamy taste of her lips. 'Just like strawberries and cream!" he thought just before Hermione, now overcoming her surprise at Harry's sudden kiss, started kissing him back. All rational thoughts fled from his mind as his blood drained towards south and Harry revelled only in the sensations of pleasure that were being created.

Harry ran his tongue along Hermione's bottom lip, seeking entry. She granted him that and their tongues clashed with each other as Harry desperately sought to examine her tonsils. His hands were now entwined in Hermione's bushy hair, while Hermione's hands were now roaming freely up and down his back. Soon though, it seemed to them only a few seconds had passed, and they had to pull up for air. But no sooner that both took the much-needed breath, than their lips met again, almost violently and they sought to explore each other in every possible way without actually having to shed any of their garments aside, off their own forms.

It had been very similar all throughout that week. They were still the best of friends, classmates who sat on the same desk, and study partners. But besides that, they felt this strange physical attraction towards each other that they hadn't experienced before, a transference of plain love from the level of friendship to that of liking and loving as more than a friend. Everyday, they stayed together in the common room, sometimes working, sometimes chatting and lazing about. They were most certainly always the last persons who stayed up in the common room up to late at night. And that culminated more than once in snog sessions that they enjoyed. (On second thoughts, who wouldn't?)

Ever since Harry had spilled the contents of his heart to his best friends, he had found great solace and some much-needed comfort. His friendship with Ron had since grown deeper and much more meaningful as they realised they were privy to one of the most well-kept and one of the most important secrets to concern the wizarding world during their time. Ron, it seemed, had finally realised that it was not he himself but Harry, who had got the wrong end of the stick throughout his entire life and that the fame and fortune he attracted was an obligation, a burden rather than being a great asset to have.

Ron was indeed, relieved that, Harry had taken the news of him being appointed Quidditch captain well and not at all like what he had expected. Of course, he had expected Harry to brood and be miserable about not being appointed himself, since that is what he believed he would himself have done in the first place. When he brought this up before Harry later, he just shrugged it off, saying, "It's alright, mate. For one, I don't think I have enough experience in strategising for Quidditch. All I can really do is just fly and catch the Snitch. For second and more importantly, you have the most extensive knowledge of Quidditch among every current student at Hogwarts and are without doubt, the best man for the job." Although Ron did not say anything, he felt gratified nonetheless.

They had both sat together a few times over the week (with Ginny, whenever her schedule coincided) and spoke extensively about the various moves and formations that could be tried out in the coming year. They also went to lengths planning new strategies for their forthcoming games. Or as Harry pointed out to Hermione later, he and Ginny were just providing inputs from their perspectives, while Ron was the one doing the actual strategizing. Tryouts were another big issue since none of the four remaining places in the team (two Chasers and two Beaters) - Ron still did not consider their Beaters from last year, Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper to be good enough to merit a direct selection, especially taking their previous performances on matchdays into account – Harry and Ginny wanted to give them another chance but Ron was adamant. It was finally decided that the tryouts be held on Sunday afternoon. Ron had booked the Quidditch pitch to that effect as well.

So, all in all, it was quite a relaxing first week at Hogwarts, at least the later part for the Trio. But he knew that all would change when classes began, especially with such tough taskmasters as McGonagall and Snape.

* * *

It was Saturday night. Everyone was back in their respective common rooms, spending their time as they preferred to. Only two students were out and about – at least the ones that belonged to Gryffindor – one was Hermione Granger who had taken up a place in the library for the moment and the other was Harry Potter, who was going to the library itself to meet up with his girlfriend and convince her to relax and call it a night.

Harry was coming from the direction of the Entrance Hall. He would have normally walked the straight path to the library, but the Marauder's showed the tiny dot named 'Argus Filch' prowling the corridors in the same section of the castle. Not wanting to be caught roaming outside after curfew hours, Harry had taken the longer way around, using his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's map as insurance against any possible encounter.

Just as he entered the Entrance Hall, his attention was caught by a partially open door directly across the Hall from him. Harry vaguely remembered going to the classroom sometime the previous year. It was just that he did not remember when and what for. It seemed to him now as if an eternity spanned the gulf between that time and now.

The partially open door was casting a faint, soft light right outside on the floor. It could hardly be discerned in the light of the torches burning throughout the Hall. But years of Quidditch had honed Harry's myopic eyes to sight quicker, things unseen to the normal eye. He went closer to the door and having at last decided in his mind his own course of action, he shrug off his Invisibility Cloak and yanking the door fully open, entered the classroom.

As he entered, he remembered where he was and why he had been here the previous year, not once but many times over. This was Classroom Eleven, and he had attended Divination lessons in this classroom, for the better part of last year.

Sure enough, a figure appeared to his right and spoke to him, thus confirming his thoughts as to where he currently was.

Harry had found himself in a scene imitating a forest clearing. A centaur, Firenze, who was also a Divination teacher for those who took up the subject, stood to Harry's right and spoke to him even as Harry gazed at him, "Harry Potter," Firenze said, "It seems that the stars dictate that you must come here at this appointed hour."

Harry noticed that the ceiling reflected the night sky outside, as like the Great Hall. Stars were shining throughout, for the moon still seemed young and had not waxed to its proper brightness so as to overshadow them.

Harry nodded at Firenze and said, "Hello Firenze."

Firenze held out his hand to Harry and they shook hands.

"Indeed." Firenze said, "I see, the stars reflect the uncertainty of your mind. There is much amiss in these lands, much that needs to be banished, and much that needs to be created. The centaurs concern themselves only with the future. In the process, we ignore the present and the comings and goings in the world around us. But already it seems to me, that our quiet time in the forests is ending. Our time as a noble race, who are neutral and take no sides in the affairs of wizards, is ending. It appears to me that the time has come when we must either fight in battle or perish, or wait patiently for the Darkness to overcome us even as we die. Either way, there is no hope left for us."

"But what it Light prevails over the Dark?" Harry found himself asking.

:"Do you still harbour such a hope to that? Do you think it is still possible?" Firenze asked, fixing Harry in a piercing gaze. "The centaurs have been wrong before, Harry Potter, as I have undoubtedly told you before now. There are many forces in the universe which can alter or change the course of centuries and we centaurs know nothing of them. But already our ability to read the stars is fading. The Dark, clouds our vision, much in the same way as it happened to our master, aeons ago.

"Masters?" Harry said aloud, voicing his thoughts. It was indeed news to him, since the centaurs always proclaimed themselves as free creatures who roamed the forests willingly.

"Indeed, we are free." Firenze said. "But I meant 'masters' not in the sense of ownership but more so in the sense of learning. They taught us, they helped us learn and now they have passed away." He hung his head as if in sorrow as he said this. "We do not speak their names out of reverence, for they are sacred and holy, having reached a pinnacle that no one who came to this planet ever has reached. Yet maybe, if the stars allow, you will know more of them."

Firenze paused a moment and then resumed, "The centaurs are an ancient race, Harry Potter, even more so that humans. We have the experiences of centuries and the wisdom of millennia. Yet, it is clear now that our power wanes. Either way, irrespective of the outcome of this war, we will dwindle and then fail altogether, surely but slowly.

"Yet I do not fear that fate. What I fear is the position that we will hold when we fail. Already, I know of secret whisperings of reclaiming our rightful position in the world, reclaiming our freedom to wander freely over all the free lands. I fear treachery, and I fear for the fate of my brothers."

Harry took all this information in and then suddenly asked Firenze, "Firenze, could you teach me to See?"

Firenze considered Harry's strange request for a moment and then replied, "You cannot teach anyone to See, Harry Potter! But if you want to know, I'd just advise you to close your eyes and concentrate. You will see what it is destined for you to See. The minds of centaurs and humans work differently, Harry Potter. We are not encumbered with the prejudices of your race. Even if both you and I look at the same object, we will See different things. So, I cannot teach you to See. Goodbye now. May the stars give us the opportunity of meeting again."

Harry accepted this opportunity of breaking this meeting. He exited the room and quickly went out into the Entrance Hall. He leant against a wall and took a few deep breaths. What did Firenze try to imply? He couldn't figure out for the world of him, maybe Hermione could help. That brought him back to his original motive of wandering around the place after hours. He quickly ran all the way up to the library, covered from head to toe in his Invisibility Cloak. Just as he ran through a corridor adjacent to his destination, he didn't quite see where he was going and dashed into someone.

Harry felt himself falling to the ground now with the 'someone' on top of him. He felt his face in soft curls, that smelled like heaven to him. He knew that smell, that aroma and he knew the person to who it belonged to.

"Harry?" came Hermione's voice, "Take that invisibility cloak off right now. I can feel you but it feels weird not to be able to see you.

Harry complied and took the cloak off his head. Hermione saw Harry's head before her now suspended in nothingness.

"Hermione, could you just get off from over me, please?" Harry asked her, his head being the only part of his body that was visible. "You are kind of preventing me from getting this cloak off myself."

Hermione got up and brushed herself off, even though there was no real need to. The house elves did their work extremely well and there never was much dirt on the floor. Harry got up after her and removed the Invisibility Cloak off himself.

"By the way, what are you doing here after curfew?" Hermione asked, none too pleased, and in a matter-of-fact tone that told Harry that a scolding was coming his way. "You shouldn't be here, you know."

"Yes," Harry said, "But I just wanted to escort my girlfriend back to her common room."

"A very gallant and noble thought indeed, Mr Potter." Hermione replied, keeping her voice even, despite the fact that she was quite please. "Although I hate to point out that if you get caught, you will lose Gryffindor a load of points, and not to mention, get a month of detentions."

"Well…"Harry said. "That would apply to you too. You are out of your dorm after curfew as well."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and said, "Honestly Harry, how many times do I have to tell you? I have received special permission from both Professor McGonagall and Madam Pince to use the library up to midnight. Madam Pince has taught me the incantation to lock the library, so that I could do so after my work is done."

Harry grinned at her. He just wanted to head her off. Of course, he remembered that she had received the permission, considering that she was without doubt, the cleverest witch to come to Hogwarts and now, had the distinction of garnering the most OWLs by anyone in Hogwarts history, on top of all that. Harry remembered all this yet he just loved to see Hermione mad. He felt that it made her look cuter and more adorable than ever. It made him feel like he wanted to snog her senseless right then and there.

Harry said to her gently, "Yes, Hermione, I know that. I just think it makes you look very cute when you are angry and it makes me want to do this to you…and this…and this."

As he said this, Harry nipped at her earlobe, kissed her cheek and then her luscious, pink lips, lips that didn't need artificial make-up to make them look lovely. He nuzzled her neck gently, hoping to evoke the response he did whenever he did that to her. Hermione nuzzled inaudibly at his actions.

But soon she regained her senses and pushed him away gently. "No Harry," she said reluctantly, and not without a mischievous glint in her cinnamon eyes. "There will be a lot of time and a safer place for that later. But it isn't now."

"Okay." Harry said, with a bow. "You would better hold on to that promise, milady. For now, I will be satisfied if you decided to take a walk with me around the lake."

"What?" Hermione asked disbelievingly. "But what if we get caught, Harry? What then? I don't think the permission extends to that."

"Don't worry." Harry said, with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. "We'll be invisible to them. Please Hermione, please." He clasped his hands in front of his chest like a little child and pouted.

Hermione looked at him for a moment and then let out a short, lovely laugh. To Harry, it was like the music of a flowing river cascading softly down a beautiful waterfall. She told him, "All right. But I will make you pay with hell, Harry, if it gets us into any trouble."

Harry grinned at her, his emerald green eyes flickering with the joy of acceptance, however small and insignificant that acceptance was. Harry quickly covered the both of them with the Invisibility Cloak and then taking care to see that it did so properly, they made their way cautiously to the Entrance Hall. As they passed through, Harry paused for a while and stared towards the direction of Classroom Eleven. The door was now firmly shut and no light was filtering outside.

Hermione felt him stopping and whispered, "What's it, Harry?"

"Nothing." Replied Harry. "Tell you later."

They carefully opened the castle doors, enough only to let only the both of them to pass through. They squeezed through and made their way carefully across to the lake, still not revealing themselves lest someone might be watching from up in the castle. Finally, once they were safely across to the far shore of the lake, they took off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it into Hermione's bag (Harry carried it for her, out of courtesy for the lady, but he wasn't too sure now if he had done the right thing, seeing that the bag seemed to weigh at least twenty kilos.)

They began walking around the lake. It was quite a cold night, much too cold for September anyways. It felt more like November or late October. Above their heads, the stars were shining down upon them, casting a calm, white light that didn't quite reach the earth. The sickle moon was dangling in this sky, already leaning more towards the west. Suddenly, a single streak ran through the sky, its reflection palpable in the calm, dark waters of the lake. It was a shooting star.

"Harry, look!" Hermione squealed happily. "Make a wish quickly."

"Now, Hermione, I don't think I believe in all this stuff!" Harry protested.

"Neither do I. But it doesn't make a difference now, does it?" Hermione replied. "The worse that can happen is nothing."

With that, she closed her eyes and made her wish.

Harry, however, didn't move, his face assuming the stubbornness that could have made the Rock of Gibraltar feel proud. He remembered the last time he wished for anything; he remembered its aftermath; he needed to remember no more.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at Harry standing beside her and looking across the water, a strange gleam palpable in his eyes. She shivered a little, partly because of the cold and partly because it was the first time she had seen this other side to Harry, something that she couldn't decipher; in a state where she could not tell what he was thinking.

Harry noticed this. He had his cloak on, but Hermione didn't. She still wore only a baggy green jumper and white trousers. Harry took off his cloak and offered it to her.

"Take this." He said to her, "It will help in keeping you warmer."

"No, Harry." Hermione protested. "It's nothing – just a bit chilly, that's all. I'll be fine."

Harry shook his head at her and slipped the cloak over her shoulders, "I couldn't afford to see my only girl falling sick now, could I, Hermione? So you'd better wear this."

Hermione accepted and then asked, "Aren't you cold already? It's too chilly for September."

Harry laced her fingers through hers and replied, "If it grows too cold, which I doubt it will, I could always use a Heating Charm on myself, couldn't I? After all, I am a wizard you know." Hermione rolled her eyes at this quip.

"Anyways," Harry continued, on a more serious note this time, "I like the cold. Better than heat or rain, any day. It makes me feel alive. I feel as if the cold searches my very soul and gropes my heart, trying to pierce me, and in the process, it tears away from me all my memories, even my identity. I begin to feel as if I am a newly born child again, taking my first breath."

Hermione held her breath. She didn't realise that Harry had so much conviction in his voice. Even as he said it, she felt the images that he described appearing before her eyes and threatening to lull her into a trance; and she haven't even looked into his eyes. And she understood what he said, why he said it.

She got up on tiptoe and softly kissed him.

"So," she said, linking her arms with his, "What did you want to tell me about?"

Harry then told her everything of what Firenze had said to him.

"What do you reckon he meant?" Harry asked her. "I can't figure anything out."

"I don't know, Harry." She replied, thoughtfully. "I really don't know. I think both of us will need to give some more thought to all this to get through to his deeper meaning, if there is any."

Harry nodded at her now and said, "Okay, now that we have got lesser matters out of the way, how about that little walk you promised me with?" With that, both of them shared a very romantic midnight walk around the lake, which was glimmering softly in the starlight, as if a velvet sheen had been placed all over it. It was a wonderful feeling indeed, it seemed to the couple, as they made their way back to the castle, an hour later, under the cover of Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

Meanwhile, unseen to either of them, a voice spoke softly out of the shadows, as he looked down upon their happy forms, "And so the healing begins!"

"Do you think we should reprimand them, Albus? They are breaking a few school rules here."

"No, Minerva." Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes lacking their twinkle and filled with sadness, "I think we should give them that allowance tonight!"

* * *

The next day, Quidditch tryouts were held for the vacant positions on the Gryffindor team. Harry, Ron and Ginny had sat down together with seventh-year Katie Bell (their ex-Chaser who had decided to quit the house team to have more time to prepare for the NEWTs. She wanted to be a Healer and needed the highest grades for the same. She hadn't budged from the stand even though Ron, Harry and Ginny had tried to convince her otherwise, even since she had announced her decision.)

The four of them had drawn up some detailed series of tests that would sorely put to the test, the aspirants' strength, stamina, grit, determination, agility and other essential qualities.

Once on the field, the first job on hand was to group the interested parties into the positions they vied for. Since almost half of the team was undecided, about thirty students appeared for the tryouts, all ranging from second-years to seventh-years.

The tryouts began with a race that consisted of making five laps of the Quidditch pitch clockwise and then pulling up to do an equal distance in the opposite direction. Harry, Ron and Ginny stationed themselves at appropriate points to ensure that no one could cheat; though the truth was they expected no one but the Slytherins to cheat in such a situation. It was more like they were trying to watch out for any accidents that might occur.

Even in the preliminary test, half of the candidates were eliminated. The rest of the hopefuls who qualified for the next round, were first called down to the ground for Ron to explain to them all the basic rules of Quidditch clearly. Such knowledge was indeed necessary to make them understand what they were supposed to do when they took to the air, considering especially that many among them had Muggle upbringing.

Eventually, the afternoon wore on as the hopefuls went through a series of rigorous tests, ranging from dodging Bludgers to executing certain basic moves that were asked of them. They flew with the entire team as well to see how they would get into the formation. At last, the tryouts were over and the hopefuls were told to await the results, which would be put up formally on the house notice board the same night.

As they met up in the changing rooms, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Sloper and Kirke talked their way through the list of players who had appeared. They had officially retained the latter two as Beaters, seeing that they had shown remarkable improvement over the off-season. They two Chaser positions though, were still up for grabs.

They finally decided on a fourth-year Selena Howard as the second chaser. The choice of the last chaser, though, was quite contentious with Ron wanting seventh-year Homer Butt to get the position, while Harry rooted for Euan Abercombie from second year. Finally, Ron gave in when Harry pointed out that it was their duty to leave behind a strong Quidditch team having some experience, so as to continue their legacy of winning Quidditch cups and that a young player like Euan would be an asset for them in the years to come. "And besides," Harry added. "Even if he makes a mistake, I'm sure he'll learn quickly."

Ron accepted this point of view and they quickly drew out the team sheet and then, headed off to the common room for the night.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and clear, a perfect day, you might say, for the students to just amble about. But ambling about was clearly the last thing on their minds. The sixth-years especially started their regular classes from that day. As Harry, Hermione and Ron went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Professor McGonagall was handing out their schedules.

Harry saw that he had Defense Against the Dark Arts first up that day, followed by Care of Magical Creatures. The afternoon session consisted of Double Potions with the Slytherins.

"I have one more class today." Hermione said, as she looked into Harry's timetable. "Just Arithmancy before the lunch break. Guess I am full today." But she really did look happy today. Harry guessed it was from the fact that they were going to start their classes today.

"I only have two classes." Ron said cheerfully, his mouth overstuffed with food. "First two of the day – Defense Against the Dark Arts and then, Care of Magical Creatures."

So it was about fifteen minutes later that the Gryffindors found themselves gathered outside the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Soon though, the door to the classroom opened and they entered inside.

However, as soon as they entered, they regretted for spells started raining down upon them. Four of them collapsed on the ground, hit by various spells. A year worth of DA training had helped them practise spells and put them to work in a controlled environment, but they had rarely practised duelling before this. Only four stood – Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville.

Harry was crouching on the ground, Hermione beneath him. He had initially deflected the light directed at him with a 'Protego' shield and then taking hold of Hermione, had gotten her to the ground, covering her with his own body. Neville was also on the floor, beside Ron, who while going down had somehow caught Neville and had dragged him to the floor as well. All four of them now had their wands pointed in the directed from where the spells had been directed. Harry though, had a very good idea as to who was behind all this.

Sure enough, Professor Elijah Bickerstaff stood before them. He ignored the ones who had passed through unscathed, or at least un-petrified. He quietly went to those who had received his full body-bind curse and brought them back to reality by muttering the counter-curse. The ones on the floor got up and rubbing their necks, started muttering about teachers who attacked pupils for fun.

Harry got up, brushing his robes and holding out his hand for Hermione to do the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Neville get up as well. Soon, the class was seated at their normal places, and not on the floor.

Bickerstaff had been silent till now. He opened his mouth to speak and all the murmurs in the class ceased to exist. "So, you don't seem to have got the hang of watching out for the enemy, have you? I have no doubt that you can cast spells and a multitude of them at that. But you still do not seem to have the ability to dodge your enemies. Reflexes will help (he eyed Harry and Ron at this), oh yes, they will, but more helpful is the knowledge of what the enemy is actually going to do rather than merely acting on instinct. All of you will have to learn that and I daresay you will. That's why we are here now, aren't we?"

He eyed the class in a gay sort of a manner, as if he did not really treat them as students, but more so as his equals. "Anyway, we will be dealing with all that during the course of this year, slowly maybe, but definitely in a perfect manner. For now, can any one tell me what curse I used on all of you?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air, to no one's surprise. Bickerstaff said, "Miss Granger, yes."

"Sir, you used the Multiplicity Charm, commonly known as the Fountain Charm and merged it with the Total Body-Bind Curse."

"Indeed." Bickerstaff replied, smiling. "Ten points to Gryffindor…Now can anyone tell me its use?"

Again it was Hermione who replied. "Sir, the Fountain Charm is used to split the spell emitted by the wand into different channels, each directed in a different direction. It's often used in a one-to-many duelling scenario. However, each individual thread is less potent than the effect of the spell when used in a single channel. The potency often depends upon the magical strength and the skill of the wand who wields the wand."

"Very good, Miss Granger." Bickerstaff said as Hermione glowered. "Ten more points to Gryffindor. I think since that was such an exact and a concise definition, you would all want to write it down."

There was a flurry of activity as the sound of the scratching of quills filled the air and everyone scribbled out parchment full of notes during the course of the class. Bu the time the class ended, they had been taught the basic incantation and the wand movement for the spell.

As they made to pack their bags, Bickerstaff said, "The Multiplicity Charm is the first of many advance spells you are going to be learning. While it is the first, it is not the hardest by a long mile and I would, hence, advise you to practise the spell before our next class. A three foot long essay on the Basics of Spell Combination to be submitted to me by next Monday." And so it began and so it continued.

Even though it was their first week of classes, the sixth-years were already buried nose deep in their homework. If Ron thought that taking only four classes would exempt him from homework, he was wrong. Over the week, they were assigned two rolls of parchment on the Theory behind the Priori Incantatem spell and the reasons why it was officially classified as a charm, by Flitwick. McGonagall was her usual self, while not forgetting to add another couple of essays on top of the homework pile. It was worse for Harry with Snape assigning homework that rivalled in quantity and difficulty, the whole combination of all other subjects combined. It was the worst for Hermione, who had Arithmancy and Runes on her platter as well, but she was without doubt, doing the best among them. How could she not, considering the belligerence and diligence with which she burned the midnight oil?

Harry and Ron found themselves with their hands really full, with Quidditch practice every alternate evening, on top of all the homework. Hermione had indeed, convinced them for the moment, backing herself up with all the facts from years gone by, that it would be better for their own sakes if they did their homework regularly (although she was not quite sure how long this new-found commitment would hold up) Harry was lately putting in regular hours at night, sitting beside her and studying. But she knew that the real motivation behind all this was the snogging that they did afterwards, when everyone had retired to their dorms.

* * *

That Thursday was very important to Harry, so much so that he had completed all his work beforehand and told Ron that he wouldn't be turning up for Quidditch practice. It was 19th September and it was Hermione's birthday.

Harry wanted the day to be very special for her. It would not be the first time that they spent her birthday together, but it certainly would be the first time that they were to spend it as a couple.

In the evening, as the shadows lengthened and the sun cast an orange light all across the sky as it neared the end of its journey for the day, Harry took Hermione to a secluded area near the far shore of the lake. At first, Hermione didn't know why Harry had brought her along here, but as they stood next to the required spot, she knew why.

She saw a wooded alcove there, completely indiscernible from a distance of more than a couple of feet inside the entrance.

Harry took her inside through a narrow gap in the trees and then placed a Veiling Charm on the place. The result was that there was complete darkness. Hermione could feel Harry's touch but certainly could not see him.

Suddenly, she felt the pall of darkness lift up and an orange light filtered into the small clearing. It was the light of the sun that filtered in through the trees that guarded the space. Hermione guessed that Harry had cast the one-way Veiling Charm whereby light and air from outside could enter the alcove and they could discern what was going on outside.

But at the moment what was happening outside was the last thing on her mind. Before her was one of the most breath taking sights she had even beheld and that was saying something since she had visited such beautiful countries as France, Italy, Austria, Switzerland and Greece over the years with her parents. That was indeed the irony of the situation. After seeing many of the wondrous sights that those countries had to offer, Hermione was simply overcome by the simplicity of the sight before her. The orange sunlight made it look as if the trees were basking in the light of a fire. The stems gleamed and the leaves shone as if they were made from gold. There was a typical coolness in the clearing and a mild breeze blew through it. How it managed to penetrate the ring of trees, Hermione could never figure out, but there was something extremely old world-ish about this place. It was as if she had stepped through the annals of time and entered a place long forgotten, long untouched, a place which hid many secrets and was privy to some of the most important events that might have occurred since time immortal.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Harry whispered in Hermione's ear, with his hands around her waist, pulling her body closer to his own with his chin reclining gently on her right shoulder.

Hermione was speechless. She merely nodded at him.

Harry flicked his wand once at the empty grassy area before them and a table appeared. It held a small chocolate cake, with three world written simply in frosty white icing – 'Happy Birthday, Hermione.' Sixteen candles flickered merrily on top and soft music began to play in the background from somewhere.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione, my love." Harry said.

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. She had never expected such a wonderful gesture, even from Harry. To think that he went to such great lengths for just wishing her a happy birthday overwhelmed her. (Although the romantic part in her hoped that there was more to come)

Harry took her hand and walked her to the table. He handed her a knife and she cut the cake. After they were done with it, Harry waved his wand again and the table cleared itself. Instead, a dining table for two appeared, laden with all kinds of delicacies – every one of the platters filled with Hermione's favourites. The light outside was already failing rapidly and as it did so, Hermione noticed that a few candles were now hovering in the air around the clearing, keeping it properly lighted.

"So, shall we eat first?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded. In truth, she was feeling ravenous. Apparently, the fact that it is your birthday did not excuse you from the rigours of classes.

Few words were spoken as they finished the wonderful dinner. There were only frequent glances and smiles on their parts. Hermione wondered if Harry done the cooking all by himself, but then she reasoned that she could not really expect so much from him. After all, he had much the same schedule as her.

"So how do you like this till now?" Harry asked nervously running his hand through his hair as he did so.

"It's been wonderful, Harry." Hermione smiled at him. "I can't believe you did all this for me." She reached across the table and covered Harry's hands with hers. "Thank you." She said, tears of joy welling up in her eyes yet again.

Really speaking, Hermione's birthdays had always been quiet family affairs. She didn't really have any friends in her pre-Hogwarts days, with who she could share the joy of celebrating her birthdays. It generally was her and her parents having a quiet celebration. At Hogwarts too, her birthdays over the last six years, were 'hectic' to say in the least – what with all the classes that had to be attended and the homework that needed to be done. Aside from a few birthday greetings from her close friends and their gifts, the days were not exactly memorable. Not that she blamed anyone; Hermione herself was so logical and rational that it was her firm belief that a birthday was just another day in the grander scheme of things.

But what Harry had done was different. It might have been only a simple gesture, but it touched Hermione's heart. It reminded her of the birthdays that she had celebrated with her parents. For her, it was another testimonial as to how much Harry loved her and cared for her.

Harry though, seemed happy and a tiny bit embarrassed, at the same time by the praise. He blushed red, trying to hide his smile. He said, "Honestly Hermione! This is nothing. Anyway, it was Dobby who made most of the arrangements. I just told him what to do."

"But it is still the thought that counts, Harry." Hermione said. "And so, thank you for what you have done for me." With that, she leaned into him and kissed him, leaving Harry to inhale the scent of chocolate cake that she had eaten mingled with her own taste. The flavour of chocolate, especially the chocolate that came from Hermione's lips aroused him greatly and he felt a wave of desire gush forth, overcoming his entire form.

He kissed her in return and they engaged in one of the lengthiest snogging sessions they ever had. Even in the midst of all that, they fell off their chairs and onto the grass with Harry on top of Hermione. But they didn't seem to notice it in the least. They continued exploring each other's passions – lips inter-locked, tongues clashing, bodies rubbing against each other and hands roaming all over.

Neither Harry nor Hermione knew how they managed to restrain themselves any further or how they finally came to their senses two hours later. It was already eleven at night by the time their bodies got exhausted; even though their hearts and souls were yearning for more.

The clearing was now lighted by the dancing light of candles. The soft light illuminated the features of Hermione's face. Harry could see her chocolate brown eyes gazing longingly at him. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure if her eyes were brown. With each passing moment, as their passion grew, the lights flickered and flamed, they cast a different light, a different shadow on her features and her merry eyes seemed to take on a different hue, a different shade of brown.

They got up from the grass and stood before each other. Harry put his hand into his pockets and fished out the treasure he had kept from Hermione for the past month. He knew it would eventually belong to her, but he was waiting for the right moment for that to happen.

Hermione saw Harry draw a velvet covered box from his pocket. He drew it up before her and opened it. Therein lay the gift he had bought for her from Diagon Alley. It was a necklace – a simple thin gold chain with a small diamond pendant embedded in it. It was a simple necklace, nothing too extravagant, none too heavy, something that Hermione decided at once that she would like to wear for every remaining moment of her life.

Harry put the necklace around her neck and waited expectantly for her to say something.

Hermione took the pendant in her hand and said, "It's beautiful, Harry! But you really shouldn't have spent so much money."

"It's the least I could do for your birthday." Harry answered. "Anything for you, my love."

Hermione got up on tiptoe and kissed Harry even where they were standing. They broke apart after a while, to take in some much needed air. They decided that they had lingered here long enough and would come here again later. It was now time that they headed to the common room. Harry produced his Invisibility Cloak from underneath his robe and they proceeded on their way.

As they trudged along, Hermione reflected on the evening. Everything about it was so simple that she had almost feared at one point that it wasn't real. Even the birthday gift that Harry gave her was simple. Expensive, yes, but simple nonetheless. It didn't have any elaborate and large designs carved on it. It was exquisitely simple.

Somehow, Hermione felt that the evening marked an attempt to achieve something that had always eluded both Harry and her – a certain kind of simplicity in life, an opportunity to be normal, a chance to be away from the glaring focus of others, an occasion when they could share their love with each other, only each other, without others hindering the same.

It was one of the most beautiful evenings in the life of Hermione Granger. Everything about it reflected Harry's love for her. And she remembered it even until the end of her days.

* * *

Author's Note:

Well, first of all, sorry many times over for such a long delay in posting. This chapter has been very very troubling to write and not in the least due to all the recurrent crashes I have been having over the past week. I have had some eight ideas in mind regarding where to take this story, and I had a lot of difficulty in choosing the most viable one.

This chapter includes several subtle hints to what is going to happen next, especially with Harry showing some interesting signs. The next chapter has some action in it. I would have given you the name but it would give away the whole content of the chapter. So you will have to wait till next week to find out more about that.

I hope you liked this update. I really worked hard on it. I rewrote it about fifteen times before it ended in this form. Please drop in a word about how you felt the story is, or anything related to this and let me know if I am getting better as a writer or not.

For those of you who read the Survivor, thank you very much. I will be uploading the acknowledgement in a couple of days.

So long then, bye.


	13. Mayhem at the Ministry

**Chapter Twelve**

**Mayhem at the Ministry**

Hermione's birthday had now been a thing of a couple of days ago. It was Saturday and everyone was enjoying a nice late weekend breakfast. In a few minutes, owls started flying n through the rafters and the air was filled with the sound of flapping wings. Mail had arrived. Students who took the Daily Prophet opened the newspaper and gasped at the headline.

_**French Minister of Magic Assassinated By Death Eaters**_

_The French Minister of Magic, Charles le Tallec, who arrived earlier in England last week to hold discussions with his English counterpart, Cornelius Fudge, especially regarding the internal situation in the English magical community, was assassinated last night by a group of Death Eaters led by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. Minister Le Tallec's convoy was assailed at the official guest residence in London and the attack left 21 dead including the Minister himself. No eyewitnesses are reported to have survived and the attack was discovered by Aurors who saw the Dark Mark hovering above the scene. The area has been cordoned off and none but the authorized personnel are being allowed inside. _

_It must be noted that the French Minister's visit was a bid at allaying the fear that has got sparked in the worldwide magical community due to the news of the resurgence of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the reportedly, increasing number of his followers. French Magical Law Enforcement authorities had advised the Minister not to take up residence in England, but that warning was unheeded and eventually culminated in the assassination._

_In a statement issued earlier this morning, Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who visited the scene of the attack, said, "We condemn the assassination and the people responsible for the same and at the same time, we are deeply regretful of Minister Le Tallec's untimely demise. He was a fine leader and his assassination has caused a great loss for the worldwide magical community."_

_On being asked about actions the Ministry plans to take against the guilty party, he replied, "You-Know-Who is a very powerful wizard. But we are sure he won't be able to stand against the might of the Ministry. We have a whole team of Aurors on this case and we are sure that we will catch him and bring him to justice soon, now that he has resumed his anti-social activities." _

_This latest lapse of intelligence and the assassination is seen as a grave threat to Minister Fudge's standing in the Ministry. His image has taken a severe beating due to these events, since it is reported that he had given a personal guarantee of the French Minister's safety. Even as the news of the assassination spread, the Warlocks have called an emergency meeting to deliberate on the fate of Minister Fudge. It might indeed, be before long, that the magical community of England, sees a new Minister of Magic in office._

Hermione looked up from the newspaper, her face pale, and handed it over to Harry. By the time, Harry and Ron were done reading the newspaper, her face had assumed a thoughtful demeanour.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed when he was done reading the report, "Team of Aurors to catch You-Know-Who? If they can so much so as even give him a bruise somewhere, I'll stop eating!"

"Fudge had to say something, Ron." Hermione snapped. "Otherwise, he would have looked like a fool."

"He looks more like a fool to me after he said this." Ron retorted. "Everyone in their right mind knows that no one can kill or hurt You-Know-Who."

"Thanks for the show of confidence, Ron." Harry muttered bitterly, under his breath. The sound of loud discussions on the subject drifted from across the house tables.

Ron's face immediately took on an apologetic expression, while Hermione suddenly became all concerned – the same patronising, almost motherly look she wore on her countenance as she constantly looked after Harry – watching his back; and looking out for him.

"What's the matter, Harry?" she asked.

"Nothing, it's nothing." Harry replied.

"Come off it, mate." Ron said, grinning wickedly at him. "You know you can't hide anything from us. And anyways, I may not always agree with Herm-own-ninny here but I know her well enough to see that she is usually always right about everything and everyone, especially you, mate."

Harry sighed. "Okay." He said. "I was just wondering – if Voldemort had himself led the attack and killed the minister, why then didn't I feel it? My scar didn't even hurt, as it should have since he was clearly in a murderous mood."

"I dunno, mate." Ron said slowly, evidently thinking as he spoke. "I think you should go to Dumbledore with this."

Harry seemed a bit sceptical about this, but Hermione backed Ron on the matter. "Yes, Harry." She said. "Let's go and meet Professor Dumbledore. Anyway, I think I can go on without studying this morning."

Ron's jaw fell to the ground at this proclamation and he made a face at Hermione in mock surprise. The trio shared a good laugh and for a moment, it seemed that the tension prevalent in the wizarding world was non-existent in their midst. They made their way to Professor Dumbledore's office and Hermione was about to speak the password – 'Skiving Snackboxes' (knowing the password to the Headmaster's office was a special privilege of the Prefects) – when they were met by Professor McGonagall. She walked briskly towards the trio and stopping in front of them, said, "Professor Dumbledore predicted that you might try to meet him this morning. But he is not here at the moment. He's told you though, all three of you mind, to meet him tonight at eight here itself. I gather that you know the necessary password."

The three of them nodded and Professor McGonagall walked away, leaving them a little dazed in her wake.

"So, shall we go then?" Hermione asked.

Harry and Ron nodded. They had nearly made their way to the next corridor when they collided with a host of other students coming from the opposite direction. Everyone fell down in a heap. It transpired that the students were none other than the members of last year's DA.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" Dean Thomas exclaimed, as they got up from the floor and dusted themselves. "We've been looking for you since ages."

"What is it, Dean?" Ron asked impatiently. In reality, he had never gotten over the fact that he had once dated Ginny and now tended to be a little short with his dorm-mate even after they had called things off.

"We were all wondering if we could re-organise and start the DA again." Lavender Brown said.

"A few more students are also interested in joining it this year, like Seamus over here," Justin Finch-Fletchey spoke up. "They heard about it last year and are interested in joining now."

Harry thought for a moment and then began, "I don't know about this. I mean, last year, that had, Umbridge wasn't up to the mark, but this year, Bickerstaff seems fine enough."

"Come on now, Harry." Ernie Macmillan said. "This isn't about Umbridge or Bickerstaff. The DA wasn't even only about side-stepping Umbridge's authority. It was about readying ourselves to fight You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. You'd said it yourself. As it is, their threat exists and so, the DA must too."

There was a general murmur of assent that ran through the group at this. But Harry still wasn't so sure.

It was Hermione who spoke up now. "Harry, I think Ernie's right. There is definitely a strong point as to what he is saying. I think we could make the DA legal this year and even ask Bickerstaff to help us out with this."

"Okay, then." Harry said, acknowledging everyone's wishes. "I'll ask Professor Dumbledore for his permission. But I think we should talk to Bickerstaff first."

The group cheered at this proclamation. Seamus Finnigan exclaimed, "There's a good man, mate." Ron clapped Harry's back, happy about the latest decision.

On this note, the group dispersed and Ron, Harry and Hermione made their way to the common room. Harry and Ron really needed to get their homework done. Their mental exercise continued even after lunch. Eventually, after three Transfiguration assignments, a couple of Charms essays and half a dozen Defense assignments (he had let all these assignments pile up over the last few days of classes) Ron got tired and said that he could take no more, not for the time being at least; and he chose to go up to the dormitory to take a nap. Harry, meanwhile, had a considerably smaller backlog to start with, and now only had to get the last remnant of his homework – the last of Snape's Potions essays out of the way. It was about four in the afternoon when he finally finished.

The common room was generally empty except for Hermione sitting by the fire. The weather had seemingly warmed up and everyone was enjoying the weekend outdoors.

"Ha!" Harry exclaimed happily as he put his books aside, finally glad that he would be able to spend the rest of the evening as he wished, away from the anxiety of completed assignments and homework deadlines. However, his exclamation had shaken Hermione out of her reverie.

Harry went up to her and sat on the floor, his back resting in between her legs.

"So?" she asked him. "Done all the homework?"

Harry nodded.

"Tired?" she asked him once again.

"You bet." Harry sighed. "I don't know how I am going to hold up at Quidditch practice tonight with all my muscles aching. I didn't know that plain old studying was such an exhausting affair."

"At least you completed it though." Hermione reasoned. "Now, you can enjoy the rest of the evening."

"That's exactly what I thought about all this." Harry said absentmindedly, beginning to enjoy the sensations that were now being produced by Hermione gently massaging his shouldered with her small hands.

"I know." She said reassuringly, and continued rubbing his back gently, making him revel in the feeling of her hands and making him moan lightly in the process.

'How can such a light touch produce such an effect?' Harry wondered to himself as another wave of pleasure passed over him as Hermione began nuzzling his neck with her lips and tongue.

Finally, he detached himself from the carpet and from Hermione and took the seat next to her. It was more out of the fear that they would get washed away in their passion and someone might walk in on them. Hermione snuggled into Harry.

"So, what were you thinking earlier?" Harry asked her.

"What? When?" Hermione asked, appearing confused.

"Only just now when I was completing the Potions assignment." Harry replied. "You had that expression on your face like you always do whenever you are trying to think hard about anything."

"And way may that expression be?" Hermione asked indignantly.

"Well, it's this trademark expression really." Harry explained. "Your eyebrows are all scrunched up together ; your little nose is just a bit turned up, like this; your cheeks get this light pink tinge that I really adore and you bit your lip like this; and it makes you look so cute that I could look at you forever." He tried to show her, but winced in pain as he bit his lip rather harder that he wanted to, or should have.

Hermione giggled at him and punched his arm lightly. He winced in mock pain. She snuggled further into him, almost on his lap now.

"So, what were you thinking?" Harry persisted with his question, his hands playing with one of her curly locks. Her hair was another thing that fascinated Harry about Hermione. Together, all her curls seemed untamed, wild, bushy, unmanageable – you name such terms that can be not-so-good attributes to anyone's hair; but individually, her golden brown locks were so silky, smooth and almost transparent, not at all unlike a veil.

"Just about the killing." Hermione replied. "You know, I've read of Le Tallec more than once. He was one of the most prominent supporters of equal rights to all magical creatures. He implemented many such policies in France. He was a liberal, you know, and for quite some time, a resistance against him has been taking shape, led by wizards and witches with pure-blood mania. Guess it sort of figures why Voldemort would want to kill him. He is all for the purification of the wizarding race, even though he keeps on pretending, even unto himself that he is a pure-blood all the time." Harry nodded.

"But what doesn't make sense," Hermione continued slowly, emphasizing every syllable that she uttered, "is that if Voldemort was really behind this, how could you not feel his hate? Does it mean that Voldemort wasn't actually behind this attack and his rise was seen by the Resistance of doing their work without anyone knowing any better? Or does it mean that he blocked you from your mind, that he strangulated your connection for some time?"

"I thought about it when the news appeared." Harry told her. "I have no idea. Maybe the latter case is the one we are looking for. After all, he is an expert Leglimens and Occlumens."

"Of course," Hermione said, clapping her hand to her forehead. "That would explain a lot of things now, wouldn't it?"

Harry nodded.

Hermione spoke now. "We should ask Dumbledore about this. He's bound to know what happened."

Harry replied, "Believe me, we will. Tonight."

But as it transpired, they did not meet Dumbledore that evening, for as Harry and Ron were at Quidditch practice, Harry received an OWL from the Headmaster himself.

_Harry,_

_I regret that I will not be able to meet you tonight, as Minerva might have informed you. Evidently, some urgent business has sprung up that needs my immediate attention. I know you have questions whose answers you eagerly await, but please bear with this wait. It will not go in vain, and you will get the answers that you seek from me. Look to Minerva for further instructions as to my return. And I would suggest, in the meanwhile, that you seek Miss Granger's help and practise a few elementary Occlumency techniques. Hogwarts library has quite a few books on the subject._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore._

Harry quietly pocketed the note, and showed it to Ron and Hermione later that night.

"What could it mean?" Ron asked, not knowing how to make head or tail of Dumbledore's cryptic words.

"It means," Hermione said, a look of understanding on her face, "that Voldemort may be listening in on us at the moment." With that, she looked at Harry. He understood immediately.

While Hermione ran off to the library to fetch few books on Occlumency, Harry explained the meaning of their statements to Ron, who didn't seem to have got them.

All three of them, even Ron, stayed up till late that night trying to work out the basic mind relaxation techniques – the elementary stages of Occlumency – and by the time they crawled up to their beds, all were dead tired, even Hermione, who was quite as used to burning the midnight oil, as anyone could be.

* * *

The next day, while at breakfast, Harry looked in the direction of the staff table, trying to find a sign of the Headmaster's return. He caught Minerva McGonagall's eyes, who seemed to know what he was trying to do. She shook her head slightly and Harry realised that Dumbledore had not returned yet. He did the same at lunch and at dinner and yet, Albus Dumbledore had not returned. Evidently, there was something going on that was keeping him busier than ever.

* * *

The subsequent week started off with Defense Against the Dark Arts class for the sixth years. After the class was over, Harry approached Bickerstaff and said, "Professor?"

"Yes, Mr Potter?" Bickerstaff inquired. "Do you have any problem or are you in any difficulty."

"Neither, Sir." Harry replied. "Actually, sir, last year, we had this informal Defense Association and we were just wondering if we could re-organise this year as well and maybe, you could help us out with all the stuff and such."

"Why not, Mr Potter?" Bickerstaff said, his dull blue eyes coming to life all of a sudden. "However, I do have one suggestion though…"

* * *

When Harry exited the Classroom finally, he found himself surrounded by a host of DA members. 

"So, what did he say?" Neville asked breathlessly.

"Did he allow it, Harry?" Colin Creevey asked.

"I hope he said we could do it!" exclaimed Parvati Patil.

"Guys! Guys! Guys!" Harry said exasperatedly. "There is no need to get hyped up. He said it is okay. He has no objection. He even agreed to help the group.

There was a collective sigh from the group at this and they broke into a cheer.

Harry however, raised his hand to ask for silence and then said, "He only suggested one thing…that this year, we should call the DA only the Dark Arts Group or something so simple on those lines; and not something so catchy as Dumbledore's Army."

All of them broke into laughs at this. As for Harry, his pleasant mood carried on throughout the day, even when he lost a few points for Gryffindor, in Snape's class for no reason whatsoever.

* * *

It was now two weeks since the news of the assassination of the French Minister of Magic had reached Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world, for that matter. There was no remarkable change on any new sequence of events that had taken place in the school. Classes were proving more exacting than ever, especially with the increasingly complex magic that the sixth-years had to deal with. Although the NEWTs were nearly one year and nine months away, it seemed to Harry that their teachers were trying to cram in the whole of their NEWTs curriculum into one single year. However, Hermione promptly proved wrong this theory of his, by giving him a whole list of all the things that they still had to learn in their remaining time at Hogwarts. Ron had seconded his view – his palette was a lot lighter than either Harry's or Hermione's – but he was doing the worst job among them, of keeping up with his work. Hermione often chided him, saying that he could get his work done in the free periods he had, but whether he just shrugged the advice off, or was refraining from telling them something – Harry could not say definitely. 

The only notable absentee at Hogwarts during all this time, at least to the trio, was Albus Dumbledore – the Headmaster himself. Evidently, the situation at the Ministry was nothing short of mayhem. The Warlocks of the Wizengamot – which acted much like the Parliament coupled with the High Court – were holding daily meetings to review the perilous situation and talks about impeaching Fudge as the minister were definitely gaining ground. A massive undercurrent against Fudge was rapidly surfacing in the wizarding world. Ironically, even the Daily Prophet, the self-proclaimed filter of all news among the English wizarding community could not keep itself immune from this trend and articles regarding Fudge's incompetence slowly began to resurface in the newspaper with periodic regularity.

According to the Prophet, Dumbledore, being the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was having a tough time, moderating the opinions of most of his colleagues in the organisation. It seemed surprising to Harry that Dumbledore, who himself never stood for the conventional, was now providing a moderate voice, and that too in support of Fudge, who had accused him last year of trying to overthrow him from his chair and even tried to arrest him for that, albeit unsuccessfully.

He spoke about this view of his before Ron and Hermione one evening in the common room. At this, Hermione told him, "Don't worry about things that are not in your hand, Harry. I daresay Dumbledore has everything figured out and he knows what he is doing. Besides, if you are really curious about this, I will tell you what I think. I believe that Dumbledore wants to stop someone ruthless and unforgiving from assuming office. Fudge might be weak, adamant, and power-hungry; but at least he wont start a full-fledged war. The stakes are too high for that. I believe that is what Dumbledore thinks. Because if the war starts, you will be left with no time to prepare yourself. Don't you see this yet? He is trying to buy you some time."

"No," Ron objected. "Dumbledore wouldn't do that. He would never support Fudge, especially after last year."

"Oh Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly. "You are so thick. Anyone would think you have a Muggle background…Just wait and consider this. Can you think about certain words that could describe the situation today?"

"Dunno." Ron said, thinking really hard. "Maybe tense, and fearful, anxious and a sense of foreboding."

"Exactly." Hermione said, her eyes gleaming with the kind of light that they always glowed with whenever she succeeded in putting across a valid point of argument. "Now, you can't expect all witches and wizards to take a rational stand in such a case. What Dumbledore is trying to do, I think, is to fist have the situation calm down and then decide on the future course of action. Considering that we don't know yet of Voldemort's plans for the wizarding world, I think we would be playing into his hands if we started openly attacking him. We cannot afford this war, not with the kind of support that we have at the moment. That's what I believe Dumbledore wants. Either way, I don't think Fudge has many days left in his office."

"A most excellent deduction, Miss Granger." Came a voice from behind them – from towards the portrait hole which they had their backs against – "If it were not for the fact that this will have no immediate bearing on your school performance, I would gladly have awarded you fifty points."

Hermione and Ron turned around in their seats to come face-to-face with Albus Dumbledore. Harry though, didn't turn around or make any movement, since that voice had given him enough surprises to last a life time. However, he was undeniably curious. After all, it was the first time, he had seen Albus Dumbledore actually make an appearance inside the Gryffindor common room.

"Professor?" Hermione said. Ron had his mouth hanging open in surprise while Harry merely continued gazing into the fire. (He knew that Dumbledore must have come here for a purpose and in good time, it would be revealed) "What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.

"Well, actually, I am here to see Harry, as with you and Mr Weasley here." Dumbledore said. "I did promise you that…I daresay that it is nice to be back in the common room after so many years. Sort of brings out old memories to the fore from the time when I was a lad."

Ron sniggered inwardly. He could not imagine Dumbledore as a young, carefree lad.

Dumbledore continued, "I would have met you a few days earlier, as you three had no doubt intended me to do, but unfortunately, I did not take the subsequent events into account…Anyway, I believe that you have something interesting to tell me."

Hermione looked at Harry and when he gave her an almost imperceptible nod, she told Dumbledore regarding their discussion about Harry not having felt Voldemort's presence the night of the murder of the French minister.

"Well, there is a very simple explanation to all that, Hermione," Dumbledore said. He had addressed Hermione using her first name for the first time. "Harry blocked Lord Voldemort off. Unknowingly, I am sure, and without meaning to. He used Occlumency to protect himself from the vision."

"But how?" Ron interjected. "Harry isn't an Occlumens. He is still learning. And at the time of the attack, he hadn't even practised for months."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied. "But you forget Ron, that sometimes, a piece of magic performed unknowingly has far greater consequences that magic knowingly brought into force. How Harry kept Lord Voldemort out, we might never know for it was without doubt, magic at its deepest, forged by the connection they share. But the important thing is that Voldemort is now aware of what happened, about how Harry did not get the vision. He will now try even harder to break your defences, Harry and for that you need to learn Occlumency once again."

"We started Harry on the mind relaxation techniques," Hermione informed Dumbledore. "He has almost perfected them." What Hermione said was indeed true. Harry was having much more success in controlling his emotions than he previously did.

"Yes, it is just as well." Dumbledore said. "You will be starting Occlumency once again as per last year's schedule, Harry. Mondays at six in the evening. Professor Snape will be waiting for you in the dungeons to teach you and you will be going there under the excuse of having to attend Remedial Potions."

"But why can't you teach me?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time in this entire exchange. "Why does it have to be Snape still? Especially after last year; even you told me that it was a mistake on your part not to teach me Occlumency."

"Yes, but in today's context," Dumbledore replied patiently, and looking gently at Harry, "The most important thing is that you establish a sizeable command over Occlumency, irrespective of who it is that teaches you. As such, I'll confess to you that the affairs of the Wizengamot are taking a toll on me and I'll be kept very busy indeed, in the days to come."

"Why, Professor?" Hermione asked, "What's happening?"

"Too much, I am afraid." Dumbledore replied. "Too much and things that we have no control over. As for enumerating all the affairs, I couldn't do that even if my life depended on it."

"Why? Don't you trust us?" Ron asked, sounding a bit hurt.

"Indeed no, Ron!" Dumbledore replied. "I don't think that I could find three persons who I could trust more, but the fact is that the affairs of the Wizengamot will seem dull and dreary to your youth. However, I will venture to give you some information, seeing as you already have deduced so much and considering that lack of information could indeed be deemed dangerous.

"At the moment, the Wizengamot is merely entertaining the idea of impeaching Cornelius Fudge and appointing a new Minister of Magic in his stead. Yet, I fear that soon, that notion will transcend into something more dangerous. I fear that the members of the Wizengamot may decide to take on the administration of the Ministry and the issues confronting it into their own hands. In that case, I'm afraid no one will be able to help us."

"Why?" Hermione questioned. "I have heard that some of the most honest wizards and witches are members of the Wizengamot. And you are the Chief Warlock." She added, as if that settled the matter.

"Yes, that maybe so," Dumbledore said. "But power can do strange things to people. Even Lord Voldemort was Tom Riddle once - a gullible and honest boy. But it was power that corrupted him, that made him the greatest threat to the world that we live in."

"The Wizengamot has always been more than just the High court of appeal," he continued. "It is the highest authority in the wizarding world, an authority to which even the minister is subservient. But till now, we have always been passive onlookers. True, we have never felt the need to exercise our almost unlimited powers. All the more reason why I fear to see the Wizengamot abandon its passivity!"

"One thing is for sure," Dumbledore resumed, a faraway look in his blue eyes. "We cannot risk open war in the current scenario. If we declare war openly, we will find ourselves standing all alone without the support of other magical communities. Till today, we have only seen Lord Voldemort's guerrilla tactics. I can't imagine what will transpire in open war against him."

"So, why then are you defending Fudge?" Ron asked; glad that they could get so much information out of the Headmaster.

"Well, I'm afraid that the Daily Prophet must share a blame for that." Dumbledore answered. "I have merely been trying to state that although Cornelius is to bear the lion's share of the blame for ignoring the return of Lord Voldemort, other people who could have warned the world of the same are also responsible. Hence, it is time that we stop the blame game and get down to business. I am afraid the Daily Prophet rather misinterpreted my statements."

"Sir," Ron asked, "If Fudge gets removed from office, and the elections take place, why don't you stand for the Minister's post? I am sure you will have ample support."

"Yes, Ron," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "I daresay that Griselda Marchbanks has many friends. But I would never want to leave Hogwarts now, would I? And besides, there are many people who would be more interested in getting the job, more so than I."

They sat there in silence for a moment and then Dumbledore got up saying, "I'll better leave now. I still have to go to London tomorrow. Good luck, all three of you." With that, he went to the portrait hole, and still maintaining his amazing poise and grace, went out and disappeared from sight.

As he did so, Ron exclaimed, "That was an eye-opener and make no mistake about that!"

* * *

So it was that Monday came, in much the same fashion as it always did, ignoring the rumblings of the outside world and vesting only a purely academic interest in the comings and goings of the outside world, something that the Daily Prophet informed them about. There was a shadow of apprehension, yes, but they seemed too remote like the white clouds high up in the sky, incapable of bringing in a storm, incapable of troubling the hearts and minds of living things. 

Over the past two weeks, Harry had received many inquiries from the DA members regarding the time to hold the meetings, but he had not yet had time to do so. He had informed them though, that the meetings would still be held in the Room of Requirement, but as for the time, they would have to pay close attention to the false galleons in their pockets. He had yet to decide on the format of their exercise and had resolved to take up that matter with Ron and Hermione that night.

However, at the moment, it was six o' clock in the evening, and Harry had an Occlumency lesson to attend. He walked down to the Potions dungeon and to Snape's office, partly in trepidation and partly with confidence. Trepidation, because he did not know how vicious Snape would be, especially since his last Occlumency lesson had involved Harry getting more than a sizeable glimpse of Snape's worst memory; and confidence, because a couple of weeks worth of mind-relaxation exercises with Hermione had taught him to have better control over his emotions and his mind.

When he reached the Potions master's office and knocked at the door, it opened noiselessly, as usual, giving him entry into the cold room.

As soon as Harry entered the room, the door shut by itself again and he found himself looking at the cold, sneering gaze of Severus Snape. Harry did not see a Pensieve anywhere. Perhaps Snape had hidden it somewhere away from him.

As soon as the door closed, Snape got up from behind his desk and walked over in front of Harry, staring at him in the eye all the time. Harry looked back at him defiantly.

"Anger, emotion, defiance." Snape said slowly. "These are hindrances to the art of Occlumency. Unless you make your mind immune from these…these weaknesses, shall I say, you will never succeed in becoming an Occlumens."

"But sir," Harry said, gritting his teeth to prevent his anger from seeping through into his words, "I have heard that emotions make us human. Surely you don't want to imply something other wise."

"That's enough, Potter." Snape ordered. "I am not here to answer your questions. I am doing this only out of a favour to you and a because of a request from the Headmaster. It is time now that we got on with the lesson."

Snape raised his wand and barked, "Potter, be prepared."

Harry tried to invoke one of the mind relaxation exercises that he had learnt with Hermione's help in the past few days. It seemed to work up to some level, it seemed to him as he could feel a barrier getting created between his mind and the force of the spell that emanated from Snape's wand after he had shouted 'Leglimens'. But as a few seconds passed, he felt the barrier vanishing. He tried to concentrate harder on keeping up the barrier, but as hard as he tried, it was to no avail. It was like holding sand in your grip. The harder you tried to keep it there, the quicker it leaked from your palm.

Finally, he felt a dozen or so memories flashing through his mind. There was his summer at the Dursleys…the ice-cream parlour at which he worked…Sirius falling through the veil…his first real birthday party…But suddenly, all of it stopped and Harry found himself, lying in a heap on the ground.

"Occlumency is not something that can be enforced by the agitated mind, Potter." Snape said, fingering his wand. "It is possibly the only branch of magic, in which the concentration of wizard who performs this skill is of no use. The strength to uphold the barrier must come from within your mind. It is an involuntary strength or gesture in our normal lives, but Occlumency deals with bringing that skill under control and making it abide by your wishes."

For once, Snape was talking to him in a civil manner and was explaining to him, the nuances of Occlumency in a proper way. Harry guessed that the answer to this riddle was Dumbledore. He deduced that the Headmaster had coerced Snape to be more civil and considerate with Harry, at least during their Occlumency lessons.

But these thoughts vanished from his mind as Snape ordered him, "Get up now, Potter. I don't have all evening you know. Prepare yourself now." But before Harry even got up completely, Snape had performed the spell on him, and Harry's mind was flooded with past memories. But the once memory that beheld his attention fro the most part, was that of him kissing Hermione, on the floor of the alcove by the lake, on her birthday. In a while, he felt the spell being lifted off and he lay in a heap once again on the floor."

Harry expected Snape to make some scathing remark about him and Hermione, but to his surprise, nothing of that sort came. On the contrary, Snape's expression was something Harry had never seen before on the sallow face of his – vindication. However, the look passed as soon as Snape perceived Harry looking at him.

He now sneered at Harry, as if he were exacting revenge for letting him see that expression. "Potter, is this all you've got? No wonder you failed to perceive the truth and rushed off like a fool to save your Godfather!"

As soon as he said this however, Snape truly regretted it. Harry Potter was enraged, he knew it. His green eyes shone with fire and the heat of anger began radiating from his body in waves. For a while, Severus Snape was reminded of the vision of Lord Voldemort, standing before him, murder in his eyes. But the vision soon passed as Harry said to him, "Sir, I think it's time you told me what to do next."

Snape decided not to press the matter further. He was suddenly afraid and he knew why. He tried to regain his composure and said, "Then get out of here, Potter. I'll expect to see you again on Thursday. Till then, keep practising or it won't be pleasant what I might punish you with for not practising."

Harry took it as a dismissal order and gladly exited the slimy dungeons. He was son angry with Snape that he didn't even notice how tired he was, till he reached the Fat Lady's portrait. Exhaustion seemed to have caught up with him now. By the time he climbed through the portrait hole and made his way to the corner by the fire where Ron and Hermione were sitting, his head was spinning, and his mind was rendered incapable of thinking.

"So, how did it go?" Hermione put aside her books and turned her attention to Harry.

"Okay, I guess," Harry replied. "I think I did okay the first time – created some sort of a barrier between Snape and myself, but the second time, I could do nothing." With that, he narrated what had happened during the lesson, although he omitted the part about Snape's remark regarding Sirius; about the memory of Hermione and him kissing being revealed to Snape and about his near blow-up in the end.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione told Harry. "It will be okay. You'll learn fast enough."

"I hope so." Harry said, glumly. He was glad that he hadn't lost his control before Snape earlier in the evening.

"So, what do you reckon we should do in the DA this year?" Harry asked after some time, eliciting complete interest from Ron and Hermione.

"Dunno mate." Ron said. "You are going to be the one teaching us. I would have thought that you would have all of it figured out in your mind."

"I was thinking about sticking to last year's pattern initially." Harry answered thoughtfully. "But ever time I thought about it, I always remembered what happened back at the Department of Mysteries. I think that along with new, useful spells, we also need to practise duelling, even with odds like to two to one, or even three to one."

"That's a good idea, Harry." Hermione said, appreciatively.

Ron however, was more vocal in his appreciation. He said, "Good? That's a bloody brilliant idea, mate! But when are we going to meet?"

"What about Saturday at four in the afternoon?" Hermione suggested. "It's a weekend, so everyone would be free and we could have a go at it for a long time, if we wanted to."

Harry thought for a moment and then nodded, "Yes, that would be fine." With that, he changed the date and time on the fake galleon that he always carried in his pocket out of habit.

Later that night, at dinner, Harry found several of the DA members coming over to him to confirm the date and venue of their meeting or waving at him from afar. Some of them wanted to bring new members along and Harry gladly acquiesced to there request, saying, "The more the merrier!"

* * *

It was Wednesday at breakfast. The post arrived soon. Many of the students, including Hermione, were daily subscribers to the Daily Prophet and they received a big surprise when they unfolded the paper and began reading it. 

The headline was in bold letter as always but today it had been enchanted to sparkle in various colours, as if to highlight the new item further. The front page read-

_**CORNELIUS FUDGE SACKED AS MINISTER OF MAGIC**_

_According to inside sources from the Ministry, it had indeed been confirmed for the Daily Prophet, that the incumbent Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge has been sacked from his post. The Daily Prophet had come across a formal Wizengamot order, that is to be made public sometime today, that the decision has been finalised._

_Sources revealed that the Wizengamot under the Presidentship of Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore met in London yesterday and took the decision. This decision has been expected ever since the confirmation of the news that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, and the subsequent assassination of French Minister of Magic, Charles Le Tallec, by You-Know-Who in London. The official release of the Wizengamot meeting cites inefficiency, incompetence and an excessive hunger for power as the reasons behind Minister Fudge's sacking._

_The Wizengamot has now installed Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement as the acting Minister of Magic till such date as the elections for the new minister are held._

_Aspirants to the Minister's post have now begun planning their campaigns for the forthcoming elections. Madam Bones has hitherto not announced any plan of wanting to contest the elections, which as per wide belief, are to be conducted under the shadow of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his band of Death Eaters._

_It must be reminded that Cornelius Fudge was elected the Minister of Magic…_

The article went on about Fudge's political career and his past history of jobs. As expected, a lot of blame was placed on him for ignoring Voldemort's return and by the time, the reporter had finished criticising Fudge and concluded by writing that Fudge was a mean, selfish, good-for-nothing old man who should never have been elected to the post in the first place (Ron took serious offence to this, saying that it was apparently the Daily Prophet whose vocal support had swung the previous elections in Fudge's favour) The whole of Fudge's eighty years of life had been torn to bits due to over-analysing and six pages of the newspaper had been exhausted in the process.

"Well, I guess that was expected." Hermione said in a low voice, so that only Harry and Ron could hear her. Both boys nodded at this.

"I just hope the new minister has the sense to listen to Dumbledore and the Order." Ron concluded, as he continued with his breakfast.

Harry meanwhile, remained silent and thought to himself, "If only it were that simple, Ron!"

* * *

Author's Note: 

Well, that's the end of this chapter. Another one above 7000 words. The next chapter will mark the reformation of the DA, an interesting encounter with someone you and I have grown to like and then dislike strongly, in the course of the books, revelations galore, and a very strong conflict indeed.

Thanks to all those who read the story and/or reviewed. This chapter is dedicated to all of you.

I will upload the next chapter in ten days' time again. Till then, see you all, and have a very happy new year.

P.S. Three cheers for our favourite writer. I can hardly wait for 16th July now, even though it seems so far away.


	14. Mysteries and Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks to my beta Eschiva for going through this and giving her feedback. It really helped brush the chapter up nicely.**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Mysteries and Knowledge**

The news of Fudge's sacking brought much cheer amongst the Hogwarts students. Everyone now knew of the lies that he had supplied the whole wizarding world with during the last one year, and it appeared that the public opinion considered the ex-Minister as the real villain in the whole affair. Needless to say, the Hogwarts students reflected this as well.

A whole generation of wizards had grown up under the fear of Lord Voldemort's shadow. His name always lingered at the edge of every dark tale that could, as a dark shadow, something that could not be touched, removed or cleansed. They couldn't ever speak his name out aloud and to them, his notoriety and ill-fame was so great that they could never look up to him as anything but the ultimate bad guy. Now that the knowledge that Voldemort was active again had become commonplace, panic was indeed widespread. The sacking of Fudge was only a mild testimonial to the name. Other indications included regular hoaxes regarding Death Eater attacks and kidnappings, fictitious sightings of the Dark forces and paranoia galore in the mind of wizards and witches all across England.

Yet Hogwarts was still untouched by the insecure atmosphere, at least on the surface, The French minister's assassination had driven the notion of grave danger finally into everyone's minds, but with the passage of time, that terror was gradually fading, and giving way to apprehension – something that you found lying beneath the surface, only if you scratched the top deep enough.

It was mid-October and autumn was fast giving way to winter. Still, even if it was the fag end of the season, it brought some cheer to the student community since the weather was sunny and bright during the transition period (a rarity in itself) – perfect conditions for spending outdoors. You could see a host of students lazing around the lake, or gathered near Hagrid's cabin or simply walking the grounds during those times. Everyone was trying to squeeze in as much time in warmth and sunshine as they possibly could and for the time being, all thoughts of the imminent war in the outside world were conveniently put on the backburner.

The DA, i.e. the Dark Arts group as they now called themselves, assembled that weekend for the first time in the ongoing year. There were many new members who had shown interest in joining. In all, there were around forty students who had shown up in the Room of Requirement.

Harry had earlier asked Bickerstaff more clearly about the role he would like to play with the group. At this, Bickerstaff replied, saying, "Since it's a club, it is the students who will have to do everything. You must choose what you want to work on. I will just be on the sidelines, advising you and assisting you in matters where you might need my help. Still, I would prefer if you gave me a short report as to what you might have done during a particular session. Only a few words spoken between the two of us regarding this would suffice."

Harry, Ron and Hermione were the first to arrive in the Room of Requirement. That was indeed necessary since no one but Harry knew what exactly were they supposed to do and so, he had to summon the faculties of the room to conjure up the required arrangement. As they entered the room, Harry remembered the last time he had been here, and the strange cross-roads at which he had found himself then.

When the door appeared and the three of them entered, they found themselves in something which looked remarkably like a conference room. About forty cozy-looking chairs were arranged randomly around an empty central space, in more or less, a circular manner.

"What are we going to do in here?" Ron asked, eyeing the arrangements. "It looks like the setting for a meeting, not for a Dark Arts group."

"Well," Harry explained. "I thought we could just meet up and introduce the new members for today." He had suddenly realized that most of the students who would come would expect to see some action, and that was a thing he had not planned for, at least not for today.

Slowly, the members (and for the time being, the non-members) began trickling in and soon all the chairs were filled. Not a single chair was empty and no other student came in afterwards. It was as if the room knew exactly, the number of students who would turn up.

When everyone settled themselves, they all looked expectantly at Harry, who spoke up, "Well, hello everyone. It's nice seeing all of you here. First of all, I think I need to explain to all of you, the reason for this arrangement here. As it is, Ron here was most surprised on seeing what the room had conjured up, and I daresay a few of you share the same reaction. Well, I just thought that before we begin, we should get acquainted with each other, once again, even if we already are friends. I am Harry Potter, sixth-year."

As Harry said this, he heard a comment from Zacharias Smith, "As if we don't know that well enough."

Ron was about to say something, Harry replied coolly, "I don't believe that everyone in this room was in the DA last year, so I think we'd better continue with the introductions."

Soon, everyone gave their instructions, one by one and Harry discovered the exact number of people in the group. There were students ranging from third year to seventh year. The most surprising new member though was Blaise Zabini, a sixth-year Slytherin whom Harry had never paid any special notice to. But unknown quantity or not, the presence of a Slytherin in an anti-Dark arts group was certainly very surprising. Quite a few eyebrows were raised at him, but taking Harry's lead, everyone kept quiet. After it was a club – anyone was free to join.

Another interesting presence, although not unexpected, was Cho Chang, much to Harry's chagrin. Fortunately, her friend, Marietta Edgecombe – the one who had spilled the DA's secret to Umbridge last year – had not accompanied her. Cho was looking on resolutely around her, though as she made her introductions, Harry could see her gaze directed almost a bit too long on himself.

After everyone had made clear who they were and which year they belonged to, Harry spoke up once again, "Well, now that we all know who everybody is, I think the first job on hand is to explain what we are going to do. The DA began as a means to upstage Dolores Umbridge's authority at Hogwarts but now that we are all cured of Umbridgitis (there were a few laughs and catcalls at this) the DA has become much more. It is now a way of learning to fight the Dark Forces – especially the ones that belong to Lord Voldemort and his band of Death Eaters.

"We learnt a lot during last year, regarding defending ourselves. Most of you know this I believe, but I do not think many of you know how this knowledge saved the lives of six of us towards the end of last year.

"At the end of last year, there was a battle in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. Six of the DA – Ron, Luna, Ginny, Neville, Hermione and I were trapped there by a dozen Death Eaters. Yet we survived, in part due to our knowledge, courage and trust for each other; and for the remaining part due to luck and the valour of others who came to our rescue.

"I cannot promise you that every one of you will be as lucky. But we could at least try to arm ourselves as well as we can. That's why decided to resume the DA activities this year as well. To give ourselves some extra time to hone our defences. We are going to practise hexes, curses, jinxes, counter-jinxes and all such spells and at the same time, we are going to practice duelling as well. I think all of you will agree with me when I say that this year, we have got a very competent teacher. I have talked to Professor Bickerstaff and he is more than willing to help us out. I am sure that we will work hard this year and arm ourselves to defend ourselves and our loved ones.

"That's all I have to say for the moment." With that, Harry sat back down on his chair. Silence lay on the group, everyone clearly thinking of what Harry had said.

Finally, Justin Finch-Fletchey said, "So when do we begin?"

"There is no point in keeping the meetings secret, or in keeping the timings different for different meetings." Hermione opined.

"Indeed, yes." Harry said. "So what do you say about every Saturday afternoon. So, it won't affect our classes or any other commitments."

"And what about us, who have joined anew?" a fourth-year Ravenclaw by the name Dorace Unsworth asked.

"We will be working in groups this time, till everyone come up to the same level." Harry replied. "Then we can do all the things at a time.

There was a general murmur of assent at this.

"So, I guess that's it for the moment." Harry finally said. "Since we've spent today's session talking and such, we could have a session here tomorrow afternoon. With luck, we might enlist Bickerstaff's support and start on duelling. What do you reckon?"

Everyone agreed to this and began filing out of the room. Finally, Harry exited the room and closed the door behind him, after which it vanished without a trace. Harry was about to catch up with Ron and Hermione when he heard a voice all to him from behind.

"Harry, can I talk to you for a moment?" came the voice of Cho Chang – the pretty Ravenclaw whom Harry had briefly and disastrously dated last year.

"Sure, why not?" Harry said, standing beside Ron and Hermione and turning around to look at Cho.

Cho, however, did not look comfortable. She eyed Ron and Hermione with distrust and finally said, "I was thinking of talking alone."

"Then I'm afraid we cannot do that." Harry said adamantly. "Whatever you have to say, you must say it in front of my friends as well."

"No Harry," Hermione spoke to him gently, placing a light touch of her arms on his shoulder. "You go on. We'll wait for you in the common room." Then seeing that he hadn't moved, she said once again, "Go on."

Harry finally moved and accompanied Cho to the end of the corridor where an unused classroom was located. They entered and stood near the centre of the class, looking at each other.

"So Harry, how have you been?" Cho asked.

"All right…I suppose." Harry replied formally.

There was a long pregnant pause after this. The air seemed to be suspended with unresolved questions and the search for answers.

Finally, Harry said, "Look Cho, I know it will not feel very nice to hear this, but I simply cannot keep up this façade. So you'd better tell me what you want to talk to me about and get this over with."

Cho sighed and said, "Harry, I was just thinking, thinking about you and me…I was just wondering if there is any chance of us…I mean you and me getting together again?"

Harry was rather stumped at this question. Hell, he had known for some time now that Cho had dated Michael Corner at the end of last year. Then why did she want him to patch things up with her? Still, he knew the answer he wanted to give, even though it might bring disappointment to her. The only issue was how to say that to her. Finally, Harry opted for the pragmatic approach.

"I am sorry, Cho." Harry said, shaking his head slightly. "But you and I …we are history. I don't think we can ever be together, and there is clearly no way, we can bring the impossible to see the light of the day."

A glint of clear sadness passed through Cho's eyes. Her face fell and her shoulders drooped. But, she managed to get hold of herself after a moment's lapse and sighed. She told Harry, "It's all right, I understand." With that, she moved to go to her own common room.

But Harry said quietly, "I am sorry, Cho, but you need to understand. I am not like Cedric, you know." After a pause, he resumed even as Cho turned around, tears welling up in her eyes, "What you are looking for is a shadow of Cedric, Cho. I'm afraid I cannot give you that. I only saw him die and I never was one of the important people in his life. Cedric's death might have been, in part, due to my fault; but it wasn't of my making."

Harry could see the impact that these words had on Cho. She began shaking uncontrollably and sank down onto the floor against one of the desks. It was a heart-rending sight for Harry, who could never bear to see anyone's sadness, even though his own childhood was filled with horrors, some of them forgotten by himself. In truth, it was this compassion that separated him from the rest and made him what he was – the only beacon of hope for the wizarding world.

Ordinarily, Harry might have said 'Don't cry' and tried to comfort Cho, but he did not do that this time. Cho had been crying all over the place last year but that was her mourning for what might have been, instead of what was. It was tonight that Cho really mourned. It was tonight that Cho cried for Cedric – for who he was, and not for who he might have been.

It went on for a long time – Harry didn't know for how long. They stayed in that deserted classroom, Harry standing near the teacher's desk and Cho on the floor. Finally, the sobbing subsided and Cho got up, her face, a mess from all the crying. Harry offered her his handkerchief and she accepted gratefully.

"You know," Cho said as she tried to calm herself down. "The evening before the Third Task, Cedric seemed so happy. And it was then that he told me for the first time, that he loved me. And…" Her voice started breaking again as she said, "…And that was the only time he said that to me."

Harry nodded and said, "I know Cedric's death hit you hard, but it is time to move on. I don't think he would have wanted you to linger on his memories for long. I'm sure that you will find someone else in your life who will love you as much and who you will grow to love."

Cho nodded. "Thank you, Harry." The sincerity in her voice was unmistakeable. "I am sure that Hermione is very glad she has you who love her so much." She added, with a slight smile.

"I hope so." Harry said, without thinking; and then a moment later, he caught up with what he had said. "Wait a minute, how do you know about Hermione and me."

"Believe me, Harry." Cho said, now looking far more composed than she had been. "I notice things. Don't worry. Just because one of my friends couldn't hold a secret in her stomach doesn't meant that I can't do so as well. Your secret will be safe with me."

Harry smiled gratefully at her. "Well, I'll better get going then." He said to Cho. "Ron and Hermione must be waiting for me."

Cho nodded. "Bye Harry. I guess I'll be seeing you around school."

"Sure." Harry nodded and exited the classroom, leaving Cho behind in his wake, her soul relieved from a burden she had been carrying for one year now.

* * *

When Harry made his way back to the common room after his unexpected encounter with Cho, he found Ron and Hermione waiting there. Both were trying to get some work done but it was apparent from the way Hermione was looking edgy that all was not perfect.

It had been a long day for Harry, not so much in terms of physical exhaustion, but more so, in terms of mental fatigue. The whole day, he had increasingly felt a growing pricking in his scar, and even though he had tried to use his still limited Occlumency skills to alleviate that feeling, he had no success whatsoever. Harry was now approaching the onset of the night with trepidation and a sense of foreboding. The fatigue that had set in was intensified by his encounter with Cho. Now although he had half a mind to go to Dumbledore's office and inform him about the pricking in his scar, but he decided against it for two reasons. One, it was only an irritating prick, nothing overly painful. And secondly, something gave him the hard-to-explain feeling that the feel of his scar had nothing to do with Voldemort.

He entered the common room and flung himself on the couch next to Hermione. Already, it was nine at night. Harry had missed dinner but he couldn't care less about it at present.

"Tired?" Hermione asked him as he closed his eyes.

Harry nodded. "You bet. You won't believe what happened with Cho."

Ron noticed his two friends' reactions at this. Hermione had stiffened visibly on hearing Harry say what he had. Ron had this sneaking feeling that Hermione was, somewhere down the line, suspecting Harry of, well, the mildest way of saying this would be that Hermione suspected Harry of cheating on her. Ron couldn't wait to hear more about this and put things right between them.

"What happened?" Ron asked, and bent forward as if to catch Harry's words better.

"Well, we went into an abandoned classroom." Harry said. "There she told me that she wanted to get together with me again."

"What!" Ron exclaimed so loudly that the rest of the already full common room turned around to try and figure out what was the cause of Ron's explosion. Hermione, Ron noticed, had gone rigid.

Ron shot everyone apologetic looks for the disturbance and as they returned back to their own work, he directed his ire towards Harry. "What! And what did you say to her?"

Harry sensed the implied meaning of Ron's question and answered honestly, "Just the truth. I told her that there is no chance of it happening. She seemed to have guessed though that Hermione and I are together."

Hermione relaxed visibly at this and a smile came to her lips. Even as it did, a few tears escaped down her cheeks.

"Oh Harry, I am sorry." Hermione sobbed into Harry's shirt. "I thought you had gotten together with Cho. I thought you were-"

"Shagging." Ron supplied the word and Hermione's sobs intensified. But he firmly shut his mouth when Harry gave him a wrathful glare.

"Honestly, Hermione!" Harry said. "You didn't think I could do that. I love you. I'd never leave you for any one. That's the truth." Ron made a vomiting gesture on hearing of this over-flowing fluffiness, and promptly earned himself another glare from Harry.

"I didn't want to believe it, but I thought that you liked Cho last year and went out with her. And she is much better looking and…"

Harry knew that she was starting to babble and it would be exceedingly difficult for him to stop her and put his own point across if she was allowed to continue. So, he interrupted her and said, "Hermione, I think you are very beautiful. I don't think that any one can be like you. I told you I love you and that means that I always want to be right here with you."

"Really?" Hermione asked; calm being restored to her troubled senses. She had overheard Lavender and Parvati talking about Harry and Cho making up with each other and that they were now absent from dinner and locked together alone in an empty classroom on the seventh floor. That had made her lose her appetite. She had been pondering its truthfulness ever since they had come back from dinner and was trying to make up her mind regarding how to pose the question to Harry even as he appeared in the common room.

Now that Hermione looked back at it, she was quite embarrassed with herself. She had been very silly; there was no denying that fact. Harry would never cheat on her. He loved her and she knew it.

"I am sorry, Harry." Hermione said. "I shouldn't have suspected you like that."

"Alright. Apology accepted." Harry replied. "But next time you want to confirm or even waylay any suspicion of me, just talk to me, okay?"

Hermione nodded. Harry kissed her then and there and she kissed him back.

Harry sank back into the back of the couch and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a huge yawn, "Oh God, am I tired?"

Hermione kissed him lightly on the lips and said, "Go on then and try to get some sleep. And before that, remember to do the relaxation exercises, alright?"

"Yes, mum." Harry grinned at her and after saying good-night to Ron, who looked ready to really vomit, he gave Hermione a good-night kiss. It transcended into a semi-passionate kiss that was disturbed only when a very green-looking Ron started looking here and there and whistling.

"What?" Harry asked, breaking off from the kiss.

"Next time you do that mate, please warn me. You know, it's not very pleasant watching your friends engaged in a most passionate lip-lock" Ron replied.

"Very eloquent, Ron." Hermione giggled. "And before you ask what 'eloquent' means, it means 'using expressive language'."

"I know what 'eloquence' means-" Ron began, and Harry could see that another bickering match was in the works.

He intervened by saying, "Well, before you plunge into a full-fledged battle of words, I will make my way to bed. Tell me who the winner was in the morning."

Hermione looked apologetically at Harry, but seeing his bemused expression, changed her own into a smile. "Alright Harry. Go on. We'll tell you about my victory later on."

"Your victory?" Ron exclaimed. "In your dreams."

"Indeed?" Hermione retorted. "So you expect yourself to outdo me, something you've never done. Since when have you started living in fantasies, Ron?"

"Alright, alright." Ron gave up, which Harry thought was very mature of him. "You win."

Hermione looked triumphant. Harry gave her another good-night kiss, the last one of that night and proceeded to walk upstairs.

When Harry was gone, Ron and Hermione turned back to their work. But soon they realised that something was wrong. They looked up to see that the whole common room had fallen eerily silent and everyone was staring at them, especially at Hermione.

Hermione seemed a little queasy under the attention. Realising this, Ron looked to the nearest group, all consisting of third-years. "What?" he asked them, bringing forth a hint of menace into his voice. Immediately, they quailed and returned to their work. Others followed suit and so the common room was filled with chatter again.

"What's the matter with them? They are all psychos." Ron asked Hermione as the atmosphere in the room became normal.

"Ron, honestly, don't you have anything grey in there?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes and prodding Ron on the forehead.

"Ow!" Ron howled in pain. "What did you do that for?"

"Haven't you realised it Ron?" Hermione said. "They saw Harry and I kiss each other. That means that-"

"-that they all know you are together." Ron finished off and then suddenly started out laughing at the top of his lungs. He shouted, "Harry and Hermione sitting on a tree; K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

The whole common room heard this din and started laughing out aloud. Hermione looked positively murderous. She hissed at Ron, "Ron, if only there weren't so many witnesses here, I would have strangled you before you could say 'kissing'."

Ron however, did not take her seriously and stuck his tongue out at her.

"Urghhh!" Hermione exclaimed. "You and your childishness. I don't think I can take it anymore. I am going to bed now."

With that, she lifted her bags and books and walked off towards the girl's dormitories. Ron grinned after her. He was clearly the victor tonight.

* * *

Half an hour later, Hermione was sitting on her bed cross-legged, Indian style, her books spread before her, her mind intent on studying. She heard her dormitory door open from beyond her bed-curtains, but ignored the sound. But soon, she found that she could no longer ignore the noise since her bed-curtains were flung open and she found herself face-to-face with about ten Gryffindor girls, from seventh-year to fourth-year, and led by her dorm-mates, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

"Hermione," Parvati said. "You have been naughty, haven't you? Why didn't you tell us of your relationship with Harry before?"

"There isn't anything to tell. I mean, Harry and I, we are together now, that's all." Hermione replied.

"That's all. That's all?" Lavender Brown screamed, nearly causing Hermione's ear drums to split. "Hermione, you've just taken the Boy-Who-Lived out of the 'Available' list of boys and you say that's all." All the other girls in the room murmured sounds conveying the general assent.

"Okay, so that's it?" Hermione retorted irritably. "But why then are you making me undergo this interrogation?"

"Because, Hermione, my dear," came Ginny's voice from across the room as she entered the dorm and made her way to Hermione's bedside, "We are talking about the Boy-Who-Lived here, Hermione. And he is the boy whose life is always under scrutiny and nothing is ever hidden, that's why. Besides he doesn't look too bad either, does he? Anyway, we want to know how he is."

"How he is?" Hermione repeatedly faintly. "Has everyone gone mad here? I mean, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Hermione," said a seventh-year whose name Hermione knew to be Fiona Wells, "You would only if you stopped hanging out so much with Ron and Harry and more with us girls."

"Okay, enough words." Lavender said. "Now tell me, how is Harry in the sack?"

"What?" Hermione asked, shocked by the forthrightness of the question.

"Now, Hermione, don't tell me you don't know what I mean." Lavender said.

"Of course I know-" Hermione started saying.

"Then tell us about it." Parvati interrupted.

"There is nothing to tell then." Hermione replied. "Harry and I have never had sex."

"What?" All the girls around the bed except for Ginny shrieked in surprise at this.

"Yes. We have never gone beyond kissing." Hermione revealed.

"So, is he a good kisser?" a sixth-year girl asked.

Hermione blushed a little bit and said, "Yeah, I would definitely say so."

"But Hermione, you have much to learn at the moment, especially if you want Harry to remain faithful to you." Lavender said, nodding her head in an irritating, all-knowing fashion.

"Harry is not like that-" Hermione began but it was now Parvati who interrupted her this time around.

She said, "He might not be 'like that' now, but he will in a few days. After all, he is a male."

"I don't believe you." Hermione said.

"Indeed you don't. That's why you have never had a boyfriend before now, have you? If only you had come to us for advice, we would have done something for you." Lavender said.

That touched a sore nerve in Hermione. Truth be told, she was a little naïve about her own relationships, even though she was a good judge of others' relations. She was very insecure about her relationship with Harry, even though she genuinely believed in him and his love for her. It was like she feared that something or someone would emerge out of the blue and take him away from her. You couldn't really blame her though, since Harry was, in all reality, her first boyfriend and only the second person with whom she had ever gone out.

"Are you telling the truth?" Hermione asked, starting to get lulled by Parvati's words.

"Hundred percent. From my own experience and from that of many others before me." Parvati replied. All the other girls nodded their heads vigorously at this. Ginny, meanwhile, looked nonplussed.

"Then what should I do?" Hermione said hopefully.

"Well, that's why we are here now, aren't we?" Lavender said. "First thing, we need to give you a makeover – something so stunning that you will knock the wind out of Harry – something like you did during the Yule Ball."

"But that will take hours…" Hermione objected.

"Not if we help you," Ginny said. "So I suggest, Miss Granger, that you pack up your bags now and go to sleep immediately since you will have to get up early in the morning tomorrow for your makeover."

Hermione did as she was told. She went to bed that night, wondering if what she had been old was true. She went to bed that night, wondering even in her sub-conscious mind if Harry would get bored being with her and leave he someday. But she found that she could not sleep no matter what.

All of a sudden, she remembered her birthday last month and that was what sent her into the land of dreams that night.

* * *

Hermione woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. She did not know why or how. She opened her bed-curtains and chanced a glance at the clock that was merrily ticking away on the side-table. It was five in the morning.

She felt thirsty and walked across the room to have a drink of water. As she did so, she felt the sudden urge to see Harry at once. She did not know why. But the fact of the matter was that there was this inexplicable desire inside her to see him immediately. She had gone ahead with her dorm-mates' plan of the makeover simply on the spur of the moment. Inside of her, she knew, especially with how forthright Harry had been with her about his encounter with Cho, that she needn't have any fears regarding her relationship with Harry. But this urge – it didn't come from her insecurities, it came from an unknown fear of something that was going to happen.

As she took in gulps of water and looked out of the dorm window, it showed the lake looking like a dark mirror of the starry sky overhead. Suddenly, there was a bright blue light that lighted the night sky and dazzled Hermione's senses.

It was a wild light, directed like an arrow, unstopping in its speed, unwavering in its flight. It was like the herald of woe, a crow that cawed of the impending storm, a storm that was upon them. She dropped her glass on the heavily carpeted floor and it fell with a dull thud and rolled away, hitting one of the beds with a low 'clink'. But Hermione heard none of this. She was already flying down the staircase to her dorms, through the common room and back up the conjugated stairs to the boys' dormitories.

Hermione flung the door open noiselessly; and rushed over to Harry's bedside. She drew aside the curtains of his four-poster bed and looked down to where he slept. What she saw made her feel dizzy with happiness and brought warm relief to her heart. She sat down on the edge of Harry's bed as he slept peacefully, his eyes closed, hiding his captivating emerald green orbs from view.

Hermione was sure that the blue streak was something to do with the ongoing conflict in the wizarding world. Even more disturbing, she felt herself believe that this was all, somehow, related to Harry. It was almost as if she had been given a way to discover what was going on and she intended to do precisely that.

For now, she felt the long hours of awakening catching up to her and she decided it was time to take a nap. She contemplated going back to her own dorm but decided it would be too cumbersome. So, she decided to take up her quarters with Harry for the night. She snuggled into bed with Harry and with a wave of his wand; she closed the hangings around them, and locked them shut; so that no one could discover her presence there.

Harry, meanwhile, was oblivious to all this as he felt strange dreams overpower his sub-conscious mind. These were a couple of visions that he was now used to having almost every night, at least ever since he had begun to succeed, to a limited extent, at his attempts of relaxing his mind. Sometimes, he saw a quaint, little town, possibly even a small village. There was a house in there – warm, cosy, large and comfortable. Harry never did see any more of this vision. The second vision consisted of fair glades filled with flower-laden trees. A wonderful scent lingered in the air and the soft music of unseen voices enchanted the ears. Harry had no idea what these visions conveyed. At the moment, as an unknown dread crept into his heart, he saw again, the former vision.

Then suddenly, as Hermione's presence by his made itself felt, the vision faded away and he lingered in a state of slumber, dreams and visions nowhere near his mind, even to his awakening.

* * *

When Hermione woke up the next morning and opened her eyes, she found her eyes dazzled by bright daylight. It took her a minute to register where she was. She looked around and saw Harry awake and standing in front of a mirror, tying to comb his hair, which was sticking up in every imaginable direction.

Harry saw Hermione wake up and smiled at her. Even as he did so, the mirror spoke out, "You'd better smooth that hair of yours, dear. Or it looks like a bird's nest."

Hermione stifled a giggle as Harry rolled his eyes. He came up and sat down by Hermione who was now sitting upright against the headboard still, cosily comforted by the sheets. She really was looking very pretty, in her nightclothes and bunched up among the sheets, her hair still as bushy as ever, but a certain freshness surrounding her about like an aura.

He went near her and kissed her softly, "So, you are awake?"

Hermione was pleasantly surprised by the gesture. She said, "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, what's the time?"

"Speaking of time," Harry replied, "It's already ten and we have both missed breakfast. The other guys were up and about long ago. I was too scared to get up since they might have discovered you. So I waited till everyone went down to breakfast."

"Why? Were you embarrassed by the thought of being caught in bed with me?" Hermione teased him.

However, Hermione took this jest quite seriously. He began explaining, "No, Hermione. I could never think like that, I swear. It's only that I thought you'd still want to keep out relationship a secret, and…" But seeing the laughter and mirth in her eyes, he realised the truth.

Harry looked sheepishly at her and sat down on the bed next to her. Hermione, however, looked more serious now. She said, "There's no point in hiding this anymore, Harry."

"Huh? You are joking, aren't you?" Harry asked her for confirmation.

"Actually, no." she replied. "Evidently, you didn't realise that we did our goodnight kisses before the whole common room yesterday."

"That abrupt, huh?" Harry asked, smiling slightly. Hermione nodded.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

"Nothing." Harry replied. "Behave like we feel, I guess. I can't tell you how much I've wanted to kiss you right in the Great Hall in front of all the people out there." Hermione giggled at this.

"I didn't know you were such an exhibitionist, Harry," she said.

"Well then, shall we go down to the kitchens and have something to eat? I'm positively starving!" Harry exclaimed.

"Sure. Let's meet in the common room in half an hour." Hermione said.

Harry groaned, "That's too long."

"Well, seeing that you have tidied up and dressed yourself up, while I'm still in my nightclothes, that's the minimum amount of time I'm going to take. I still have to shower and dress, you know." Hermione told him frankly.

"Are you sure you don't want me to join you?" Harry whispered seductively in her ear.

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine at this. She never knew that a simple statement in that sexy voice could drive her lust to the point of craziness.

She restrained herself from jumping right then and there on Harry and snogging him senseless and merely said, "Some other time, Mr Potter." With that, she got up and made to leave. Harry felt all his blood drain south.

So, it was precisely fifty minutes later that Hermione met Harry down in the common room. Already, it was eleven and both of them were feeling ravenous. Harry felt it was really good for them that the elves were always so eager to be worked, since that meant they could get a good brunch in.

As Hermione came down, she did not see anyone else in the common room except for Harry. It was a very fine day indeed outside, in all likelihood one of the last ones of the year, and everyone was eager to catch the mild warmth of the sun, while it lasted. Harry though, seemed to be dozing off near the fireplace with his glasses dangling from one ear.

Hermione looked down at her boyfriend's napping figure with amusement. She gently poked him on the shoulders and he woke up with a start.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." She said as he yawned widely and rubbed his eyes (He still hadn't noticed the precarious position in which his glasses were perched.

He regained his sense of symmetry and direction and asked, "What took you so long? I've been waiting here for an hour now."

"I can see that." Hermione remarked. "You seemed to be making a good job of it."

"Well, I need my sleep now, don't I?" Harry defended himself.

"Of course." Hermione said. "But I presumed that's what you did last night."

"Well, it never hurts to have some extra rest, does it?" Harry said. Hermione could have sworn that he had averted his eyes from hers as he said this. But she decided not to push the matter further. She knew that Harry trusted her enough to tell her about what was bothering him, once he figured it out himself.

"So," Harry began, "Any special reason why you surprised me today?"

"Huh?" Hermione questioned, not understanding Harry's question; well, in truth understanding it, but pretending not to.

"I mean I went to sleep yesterday night all alone and today when I woke up, I find you with me. That was a pleasant surprise now." Harry explained to her.

"I just couldn't sleep well." She said, trying to process some quick thoughts inside her mind. She did not want to reveal the truth to Harry, for she did not know half of it herself.

"Why?" Harry raised her eyebrows.

"Well, if you must know, after you went upstairs yesterday and I realised that everyone now knew about us, I went up to my dorm…" And with that, Hermione narrated her encounter with the host of girls and the promised makeover and suspected 'infidelity'. She managed to explain the part of wanting to escape the fate that awaited her in the morning, with a bunch of giggling and swooning girls trying to tame her locks and getting her to look better, while part of her – the insecure part – wanted to hold on to Harry and make sure that he didn't go anywhere.

By the time she had finished explaining things, Hermione looked completely flummoxed. Harry considered this carefully. It was completely unlike Hermione to mince her words or beat around the bush at any time. He had this sneaky feeling that there was something more to all this than met the eye. His curiosity started to overflow as he considered asking her about his suspicions, but the rational part of his mind reasoned against it, saying that he must learn to respect her wishes. If she didn't want to tell him something, it was her decision and hers alone. If she needed his help or opinion, she would certainly tell him when the right time came.

It took both Harry and Hermione some time to register the fact that it was nearly time for lunch and neither of them had had a single morsel of food to eat in the last eighteen hours or so.

So, they finally exited the Gryffindor tower for the first time that day and made their way down to the Great Hall. On the way, they passed a few students, all of whom shot either curious or envious looks at the both of them. They were now walking with their hands laced together, glad finally that they were free of care and worry about their loving gestures in front of others.

They entered the Great Hall only to find it about four-fifths full. As they neared the Hall, they could hear the chatter of voices drifting across the open doors, but no sooner did they enter than the voices cease to exist. Everyone turned to look at them both. Their entwined hands did not escape notice either.

Harry and Hermione ignored this and took their seats opposite Ron and Ginny on the Gryffindor table. Both were smirking knowingly and when they sat down, Ron asked a seemingly innocent question, "So, Harry? Where have you two been?"

"Buzz off." Harry said, more to dissipate the number of ears that were now directed from all parts of the Hall towards them. He knew that Ron had asked this question to give him an opportunity to divert the stares and whispers that he and Hermione were now attracting.

Before lunch was over though, Parvati and Lavender made their way to beside Hermione and hissed at her, "Hermione, you missed our plans for today."

"Sorry, Parvati," Hermione replied. "But I don't think I need a makeover."

"Why?" Lavender asked, quickly getting into her gossip mode. Glancing at Harry, she asked Hermione, "Did you see something that disappointed you?"

"Oh! For god's sake! Get your heads off the gutter!" Hermione said. "Harry and I have talked of everything and I know what he feels about me; and yes, I don't need any help from either of you, or from anyone."

"Alright." Parvati said, as they began walking off from the Hall. "But if you need any semi-professional help, you know where to come."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and went back to her food. The Great Hall slowly began emptying. Evidently, Harry and Hermione were one of the last people to have appeared for lunch.

Still, one thing was clear. They were, indeed, the last persons to exit the Great Hall, especially considering the interruptions that they had to bear. Many students came over and congratulated them. Harry felt as if it was more like he and Hermione had gotten engaged, or maybe even married (Wait a minute! Where did that come from? Though on second thoughts, Harry did think that it wasn't such a bad idea after all). He blushed furiously every time anyone made a good-natured, yet sleazy remark about the state of their relationship. Hermione though, was carrying out her part with élan. At the moment, Harry really admired her composure.

Meanwhile, unnoticed to either of them, there were quite a host of expressions on the faces of their teachers. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling as madly as ever, while Professor McGonagall had her lips synced together in an almost imperceptible smile. She seemed a bit beady-eyed as well. Snape was his usual expressionless self turning up in nothing but the same, dour expression that he always wore. If there was anything he felt regarding all this or remembered, seeing all this, he didn't show it. No wonder he was a fine Occlumens!

Harry and Hermione were finally allowed to finish their respective meals and they were now starting back on their way to Gryffindor tower. Ron had already left; not before declaring though that he was leaving them alone but they should behave themselves. The entire population of Gryffindor in vicinity shared a good laugh at this, no doubt to the embarrassment of once again, Harry and Hermione.

They left the Great Hall. Students swarmed about them, some returning to their houses, some outside and some, with the fifth-years and the seventh-years finding special mention in that group, to the library. Just as Harry was about to take the first step up the main stairs, he found his way blocked by none other than Draco Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Get out of the way, Malfoy!" Harry said quietly.

Malfoy, however, did not seem to hear it. He said, his voice at its taunting best, "So Potter, it _is_ true then! You finally got yourself a girlfriend!"

"Get out of the way, Malfoy!" Harry repeated, his voice a lot colder than previously. Hermione could almost feel his irritation now.

"So Granger, a bit rich for you, isn't he? After all, I guess a half-blood is better than a mudblood like you any day." Malfoy continued taunting.

Harry began losing his temper now. He didn't really mind it when Malfoy taunted him, but he didn't want him to utter even a single foul word against Hermione.

"Tell me Potter." Malfoy continued. "Do you plan to produce filthy little brats here or after school? I would suggest about doing it right now. I will at least get us rid of her for a few months. In fact, I would have done it myself long ago but I could never really bring myself to touch a filthy, ragged mudblood like her."

Harry had known that he was nearing his breaking point; but the last remark did it for Malfoy. Hermione had tears now, in her eyes and he could not bear to see those. Despite of all this, she told Harry, "Let's go Harry. Please. Ignore him."

But Harry did not budge. He thrust his hand out at Malfoy. He didn't even bother with his wand. His hand movement sent an invisible beam through to Malfoy and he bent back over, almost as if he were under the Cruciatus Curse, writhing on the floor in pain. Seeing their leader fall, Crabbe and Goyle tried to muscularly hit Harry, but another simple movement of his hand and they were frozen in their places.

Meanwhile, Malfoy was suddenly transforming into, well, a ferret once again. At least some of him was. His head still was in its original form, but his body had changed into that of a very large ferret. How Harry had performed such a complex transfiguration wandless even when he could not perform such a spell with his wand, no one was able to tell. Harry lifted his hand once again and Malfoy's ferret-like feet left the air, defying all the laws of gravity and he was dangled upside down in the air.

"Harry Potter!" came the indignant voice of Professor McGonagall. She tried to restore Malfoy back to his original form but she found that she could not break Harry's spell. She said angrily again, "Potter! Release Mr Malfoy at once!"

She had to repeat her words once again but to no effect. Finally, Hermione, who was standing there shocked at what was happening, regained her senses and told Harry, "Please Harry. Do as Professor McGonagall said. Please."

These words calmed Harry down a little. He let go. His body, which was all tensed up till now, relaxed. But the fire still burned and smouldered in his eyes. And then a moment later, it sparked up one last time and was extinguished, leaving him there as Harry Potter – the same old Harry Potter.

Professor McGonagall came over to Harry and said, "Mr Potter! That was…that…I just…Come with me to my office this instant. I need to look up the proper punishment for this."

* * *

Malfoy was lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, his form changed back to a more human one. His hair shrouded his grey eyes as sweat gleaned on his blow. Even as Harry followed McGonagall and passed him, he hissed bitterly, "I'll get back at you, Potter. I'll make you pay – you and that whorish Mudblood of yours."

* * *

_Author's Note: _

_So, I am back. This chapter was quite difficult to write, that I can tell you, since it is one of those filler chapters, where you are preparing the ground for the action ahead. One thing that I can tell you is that the next seven to eight chapters are going to be non-stop action. As for the rest of the chapters, I am almost sure that there are going to be 29 chapters in the story, and I will be hoping to complete these chapters as soon as possible. So, here's the beginning of the roller-coaster now. _

_I am sorry about the delay in posting, but I have had a very busy fortnight. First of all, I rushed off to the Tsunami-affected zone in India to volunteer with the relief work. The situation was really, really terrible, and however much the truth is however much you help the people affected, it transpires to be less than the aid required. After I returned a week later, I have had to face mid-term exams. In short, I have hardly had space to breathe. _

_Thanks and please review. _


	15. Mind of the Enemy

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Mind of the Enemy**

Harry followed Professor McGonagall to her office as she had told him to. When he entered, McGonagall asked him to sit down and she herself took the chair facing him. She surveyed him from her seat behind the desk. Harry glared at her, although it might not have been really directed at her. In truth, a part of him was still fuming at Malfoy, something that was indeed understandable.

Finally, it was the Transfiguration teacher who spoke, "Mr Potter, what were you thinking?"

"Professor-" Harry said. "You heard what Malfoy said. You couldn't expect me to keep silent after all the rubbish about Hermione that came out of his mouth."

"No, I couldn't expect that, could I?" Professor McGonagall stated wryly, "Especially seeing that you haven't been able to do so on more than one occasion in the past."

A brief silence hung over the room, and Harry remembered some of the time he had been in here – sometimes being reprimanded for mischief, sometimes in need of assistance. The last time, he'd been a witness to a full-fledged fight between McGonagall and Umbridge over the possibility of him taking up an Auror's career after Hogwarts. That argument had eventually ended up in the Deputy Headmistress proclaiming that she would help Harry become an Auror even if that meant she would have to coach him day and night.

Professor McGonagall spoke up again, "Mr Potter, I do not condone Mr Malfoy's provocative remarks, but the truth is that you might as well have to learn to live with them. If you start retaliating at every offensive remark that is thrown at you, you will end up in prison someday."

"I don't care what anyone says about me." Harry protested. "But Malfoy…he insulted Hermione. I couldn't stand that."

"Indeed. But Mr Potter," McGonagall reprimanded him, "I daresay that Miss Granger is a very capable witch herself and can hold her own against anyone." Her expression softened a little as she added, "I know you love her, Harry. Although I believe that such relationships among people your age are shallow, I know that your relationship with Miss Granger is an exception. You remind me a lot of your own parents, Harry, I know it is difficult hearing such things as you did from Mr Malfoy, but that is something that you were supposed to have accepted when you made the news of your relationship public. Regard it as jealousy, or regard it as something else; but the truth is, Harry, that the very fact that Miss Granger is now the most important person in your life is going to bring many perils before her. You cannot hope to shield her from anyone who says something bad to her. That just isn't possible."

"So you want to say that I've put her in danger." Harry said bitterly.

"No, not at all," Professor McGonagall replied. "On the contrary, I believe that it was entirely Miss Granger's decision and you did not have any say in it. I have enough faith in her judgement and in her sensibility to know that she has not chosen wrongly, and already that is visible. But whether you want to accept it or not, both of you are now privy to an unspoken contract which fuses your lives together. Hence, your perils are now hers too."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked, wondering what McGonagall, as a spinster, knew about love.

"I just want to tell you, Harry," McGonagall said, "that you need to control your temper. I've known your parents ever since they first came to Hogwarts. I've known you ever since you were born. I was there that night when Professor Dumbledore left you on your relatives' doorstep. I know enough about you, Harry, to gather that you are exceptional, not in the least because of the path fate has laid before you. And your temper, Harry, is one of the obstacles that stand in your path."

Harry nodded. He understood at last. He realised once again, that by doing what he had, he had played right into Draco Malfoy's hands. In the process, he had also revealed to his enemies, the intensity of his feelings for Hermione. That was, indeed, Draco's game. He smirked; he taunted; and he drew the prey up onto him; always enclosing his prey in jaws of steel, even while he did not realise that it was indeed, he himself that was being preyed upon.

McGonagall continued, "For your outburst in the Great Hall, forty points from Gryffindor, and be glad nothing else happened to Mr Malfoy or the consequences might have been disastrous for you. And a week of detentions as well, barring Monday and Thursday when you will continue your sessions with Professor Snape. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry nodded. Professor McGonagall resumed, "Very well then. I hope this does develop some sense in you about not losing your temper. You can go back to Gryffindor tower now and do try not to get into any more trouble, will you?"

Harry exited Professor McGonagall's office only to find Ron and Hermione standing outside the door of the office, with pensive looks on their faces. Evidently, what he had done was very serious. It was clear also from the flustered look on Ron's face that he had heard of what had happened and had come over as quickly as possible.

"Harry, what happened? What did she say?" Both Ron and Hermione rushed to Harry's side as he emerged from the Deputy Headmistress' office.

"Nothing. Just told me off a bit and deducted forty points. Gave me a week worth of detention besides," Harry informed them.

"Well, it's worth it, I tell you," Ron said. "And from everything I gathered from what really happened, I think Malfoy was only too damn fortunate that I wasn't there or he might have had to contend with two hexes instead of one."

Harry nodded appreciatively at this, and Hermione managed to give a weak smile at Ron's statement. The pall of gloom was still upon her, not due to Malfoy's taunts but due to her thoughts - her thoughts about Harry.

"Anyway," Ron continued, "From what I heard, I daresay Malfoy has learnt a valuable lesson from all this. I don't think he will try to trouble you now."

The three of them made their way outside and lounged in the shade of their favourite beech tree. It was still warm, but not overly so – the perfect weather for outdoors.

Harry could feel the adrenaline that had coursed into his every pulsating being, flowing still. He was almost having difficulty sitting straight and not engaging in something, that could just help him shrug off his over-activeness. He was currently lounging with his back against the tree trunk and Hermione nestled between his legs and her back against his chest. Ron lay back on the grass nearby, and soon, dozed off. Harry felt that Ron was lately sleeping a bit too much than normal.

Harry played around with a strand of Hermione's hair, but his mind was a confounding whorl filled with glimpses of his encounter with Malfoy and the various permutations and combinations attached with him. He knew that he had used wandless magic then. He knew it for sure; he would have known it even if it had been the first time he'd used it. But the question was how he could have done such an advanced form of wandless transfiguration, when he had never been able to do so with even his wand.

As his thoughts went on and he continued playing with his girlfriend's hair, he felt a calm gradually envelope him and the adrenaline beginning to subside. He twirled a strand of her lock in her fingers. Its aroma came to his senses and washed him away. It never ceased to amaze Harry, did Hermione's hair – it was all bushy and unmanageable but from close range, it seemed that every strand of her hair was distinct, as if each one of her locks had its own identity.

Hermione's eyes moved across the lake, taking in everything in her line of vision. There were many students out and about, lazing and warming outside. 'Harry's outburst in the Entrance Hall must be a hot topic for conversation', she thought. It appeared that a few of them were even pointing in their direction.

Hermione turned her thoughts towards Harry. She had always known that he was special. Of course, you had to be special to be able to bring down a Dark Lord – a terror that every sane adult in the world was afraid to even name – when you were a toddler aged one. Indeed, now that she knew about the prophecy and Harry's mother's charm, she knew how he got the protection. She knew how the bond of blood gave his the power to survive. However, she seriously doubted that such a charm would have worked if Harry didn't possess a store of his own latent magical energy from the beginning. The actual evidence of all this – something solid and concrete – had come when they set out to rescue the Philosopher's Stone. Whether he realized it or not, Harry had been recklessly brave and the courage that he showed gave everyone a glimpse of what lay inside him – a peek beneath his skin, where one could find heaps of potential wanting to be sparked and lighted.

As the years rolled on, Harry had given more signs, more indications of what he could possibly do. But today? Today was an eye-opener. Hermione knew a fair bit about many of the conflicting theories related to wandless magic that had evolved over the years in the annals of wizardkind. The enigma surrounding this obscure ability was great and no one knew definitively, what was true in this matter and what wasn't. Yet the one thing on which most of the theories agreed upon was that wandless magic required huge amounts of magical energy and strength of mind, not to mention physical fitness, for its proper execution; and that most witches and wizards rarely had this ability. That clearly meant that what Harry had shown today was exceptional, something that rarely happened even once in many blue moons.

However, shadows fell on them now and this brought her out of her thought-driver reverie. Hermione looked up to see Ginny, Luna and Neville standing over them – the remaining three members of the group that had fought in the Department of Mysteries. Their arrival also awakened Ron, who asked at once, "Ginny, what are you doing here? I thought you were studying in the library."

Harry got the sneaky suspicion that Ron was trying not to look at Luna, for some reason.

Ginny replied sullenly, "Well Ron, just because we are in fifth year doesn't mean that we have to be in the library all the time. Even we have the right to relax, you know…My God Hermione, I don't know what all you did to secure 18 OWL's but I really need some help from you, even if I want to get half of that. I am already drowning out there will the torture that everyone is dishing out to us. They seem to be bent on burdening us to death."

"Funny," Ron quipped, "I don't remember us complaining last year, do I, Harry?" Harry kept silent; he wasn't feeling all that well and his scar had started to ache for some time now.

But evidently, Ron had asked a rhetorical question – one on which he didn't expect Harry's answer.

"Ronald," Luna said all of a sudden, "You know I found a book on Kissing Humpbacks in the library…"

Ron turned beet red at this, as if he were deeply embarrassed. Harry threw him a questioning glance, something he could do without making himself feel worse for the wear. But Ron muttered, "Inside joke." Harry wondered since when Ron had started sharing 'inside jokes' with Luna Lovegood.

Neville spoke up as everyone else ignored Luna's comments as one of her wild dreams or something like that, "You really did Malfoy in, Harry." He laughed. "But I heard him talk with Crabbe and Goyle afterwards. He said that he was going to get back at you. You'd better watch out."

Harry looked at Neville. A gradual metamorphosis in process, if ever there was one, that's what Harry thought of his friend now. Somehow, Neville had grown surer of himself, more confident and begun to show better aptitude at school (Maybe the new wand also had a hand in that). For a fleeting moment, Harry wondered what might have been, had Neville been the one Voldemort had decided to mark as his equal. But even as he thought of it, he suspended the thought. There was no point in thinking of what might have been. What was important was that Voldemort had marked him, or rather scarred him for life. This was his path to tread, his road to make, his test to give and his destiny to fulfil. And even though Voldemort had taken away his parents and godfather and mired his life in sorrow, he could never take away his will to live, his life force, his zeal, his love.

Harry lost the thread of the conversation that was now on, among his friends. He zoned out completely and before he knew it, he lost all consciousness.

It was a cool evening, and he found himself in a forest, an open forest glade. It was a clearing almost like a circular meeting room. It seemed to have been shaped by hand, yet something told Harry that it was not so. The place had a distinct old-world feel to it and seemed to Harry that the alcove by the lake where Hermione and he had spent her birthday was a mere extension of the land he was in at the moment.

He was surrounded by tall trees, whose bark was magnificent silver and leaves golden. It looked like the trees were covered with gold – such was the dazzling splendour of those precious leaves. The sun was fading, and the stars were gathering their light – to shine once more when all worlds went dark.

Harry moved about himself in the glade. He could see nothing except for the trees around him, the exposed darkening sky above and the grass beneath his feet. The moon rose; even as the sun faded away completely and its light disappeared from the walls and the floor of the glade. It was a breath-taking sight as the glade was filled with moonshine. Harry felt as if he was walking on silver and surrounded by walls of silver capped with god. Here, were jewels of the world, wrought by nature.

The glade did not need any light – such was the pure white light that emanated from the waning moon. Around it, the stars were twinkling merrily. Their light was overcome by that of the moon, yet they could be seen ever so clearly, glittering against the dark background.

Though Harry could not see any living soul within sight, he now started haring gentle voices ringing with unknown melodies in an unknown language. It was like the soothing murmur of the wind, and appeared to have encompassed within itself the very life-force of the earth. Harry could distinctly feel within the song, the rustling of the leaves, the sound of flowing water, the merry crackling of a warm fire and the calls of innumerable and unnamed birds and beasts. All these sounds of the earth were all inter-woven as one in that heavenly music and a single melody was formed – rich, varied, articulate and beautiful – the song of the earth itself.

The voices that sang this beautiful symphony were rich as if melody to them was of second nature. They seemed to Harry, to linger just beyond his range of vision, just beyond the distance which his eyes could pierce and perceive.

It seemed to Harry that the music was a celebration of the earth and the life that it nurtured in its womb. But a while later, the tone changed, as did the music that flowed from the lips of those mysterious singers. As the new melody began, Harry felt the visions of stars and moons cloud his eyes. He felt himself walking in strange and distant lands – in places where the stars were different, and the moons strange. Yet he felt the sorrow that those voices contained. It was as if they were all mourning for something that once was - something they gave up - something they sacrificed.

Suddenly, a white light began shining to Harry's tight. Even though he did not understand the language that the songs were being sung in, Harry felt the joy and wonder the latest melody contained make a way into his own heart and fill his mind with a sense of anticipation and reverence.

The white light was coming closer every minute and Harry now saw the outline of people walking towards him. But it was the person at the fore that caught his attention. He could decipher not a single face anywhere, but that person, seemed heavenly. The very sound of that person's coming to enliven his spirits and raise the anticipation in his heart.

One step closer and he'd see the face, yet suddenly all became dark and Harry found himself altogether removed from the glade.

Harry found himself in a small room, lit only by the light of a fire that was burning in the grate. He was sitting in a high-backed chair with the regal manner of a king perched on his throne. He now knew where he was. He was inside the mind of Lord Voldemort.

The room was bare and dark. The walls did not have any furnishings; neither did the floor have a carpet. It was cold and paved with stone. This was clearly a loathsome place and that was why it was Lord Voldemort's lair.

A door opened nearby and a man stepped forth. He was tall, well-built and had blonde hair. He wore a heavily-embroidered golden coloured cloak that looked a bit weather-worn and travel-stained. It seemed as if the man had just arrived from some long, and maybe, hazardous journey.

The man came in and bowed low before Lord Voldemort, even as Harry was trapped inside his enemy's mind. "Master…" he said.

"Devlin," came a high-pitched voice that seemed to come from Harry's own lips. It was dripping in cruelty and sardonic evil. Harry knew that voice. It was the voice that haunted so many dreams in the wizarding world. It was the voice of Lord Voldemort.

"Get up," Voldemort commanded.

Devlin did so, yet his gaze was directed at Voldemort's feet rather than his snake-like countenance.

"What news have you brought?" Voldemort asked.

"Master," began Devlin, "The giants started to show some discontent against our side. It was as you foresaw. We had the Gurg killed and another one installed in his place. They are calm now."

"Very good," Lord Voldemort said. "What of the Dementors? Are they ready to do their part?"

"Indeed, master," Devlin replied. "They're completely under your control and are impatient as to when they will begin to play their part."

"Send them word to wait a while further," Voldemort said with a laugh, "Then they will have more souls to feed on than they could ever hope for."

"As you wish, master," Devlin replied. But it did seem that he was hesitant to broach the next subject, something that Voldemort noticed.

"And…" Voldemort hissed. "I know you have something more to tell."

"Master," Devlin began, shaking with fear. "The centaurs…they have gone against us. They have refused to join the war on our side."

"Very well," Voldemort proclaimed grimly, "Then they have chosen their own extinction, like their masters."

"You may go now," Voldemort commanded Devlin now. "And send Lucius in."

Devlin exited the room and for a while, Harry was left alone inside Voldemort's mind. Part of him wanted to try and sever the connection that was currently working, but part of him wanted to hear the enemies' plans, the part that said it was the way to protect his friends.

"Bella-" Voldemort hissed and Bellatrix Lestrange emerged from the shadows.

Bellatrix came and bowed low before her master.

"Bella," Voldemort commanded. "The Black family estate, where is it?"

"I remember, it's somewhere in London, master," Bellatrix answered.

"I want to know everything that there is to know about it," Voldemort said. "Even beyond whatever little you could tell me. I want all knowledge of it brought to me."

"But master, I already told you-" Bellatrix began.

"You told me all that you know, Bella," Lord Voldemort said. "I need to know _more_."

Bellatrix nodded. "As you wish, master," she said and Apparated out of the room. The Apparition wards inside the villa where they were located, was so arranged that only her master and she could Apparate in and out of the Death Eaters stronghold.

A moment later, the door opened again and Lucius Malfoy stepped in. Like Devlin before him, he bowed low before Lord Voldemort and murmured, "Master…"

"Indeed, Lucius!" Voldemort hissed. "It's been a while since I saw you now, hasn't it? I gather that the fools at the Ministry were unable to extract any information from you. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, master," Lucius replied, his gaze still fixed down to Voldemort's shoes. Why they were all afraid to look directly at the Dark Lord, Harry could not fathom.

"It is just as well for you," Voldemort said. "Yet I cannot deny that you disappointed me by failing me in the Department of Mysteries, and that too, not for the first time."

Lucius dared to look up at his master's face for just a passing second and recoiled visibly. The master's shrill laughter rang painfully like the striking of a gong inside the small room.

"Master," Lucius begged. "I am deeply regretful. I am-"

"That will be enough, Lucius," came Voldemort's voice, "All that you have done in the last months, or shall I say, not done, gives me enough reason to punish you. Yet I gather that you bring me some valuable information at this hour. Let's see if that information can help your buy your safety here."

"Master…" Lucius began. "It's about Potter. I have some important news that might be of great use in our plans."

Voldemort hissed, "Then speak quickly. Already, my patience wanes and the time of my rest draws near."

"Master, Potter has fallen in love," Lucius said.

"Love, ah yes," Voldemort said more to himself than to the Death Eater before him and his laugh echoed around the room. After a while, he stopped laughing and said, "Love…yes…Potter's family does quite have the passion for 'love'. A weakness…yes….another weakness for us to exploit…for getting him out of the way without troubling ourselves…yes…" Turning back to Lucius, he said, "Who is it?"

"One of his best friends," Lucius replied. "The mudblood girl. Her name is Hermione Granger."

"Yes, I remember," Voldemort said slowly. "We attacked her home over the summer, didn't we? Another occasion when my Death Eaters disappointed me and failed to fulfil my commands."

"I ask your pardon, master," Lucius said. "Had I been there, I would have seen to it that your wishes would have been successfully fulfilled."

"You flatter yourself, Lucius," Voldemort said, with a cackle that said the words had been of jest to him, "And you think too much of yourself for that matter. I hardly need to remind you that I have overlooked many of your shortcomings and left you with many liberties that I, ordinarily might not have given to anyone."

"You are merciful, master," Lucius said, shaking slightly.

"Indeed, I am Lucius," Voldemort said and laughed his bone-chilling laugh once again, "Mercy to the loyal…Pain to the adamant…Death to the avengers…that's what I give…that's my justice…Anyway, the very fact that you have come here so soon after your release was secured tells me that I do not need to remind you of my cause."

Lucius bowed to the Dark Lord once again.

"So," Voldemort began once again, "This information that you give me, Lucius, about Potter and this mudblood, how do you know it is indeed true and not just a rumour? Are your sources reliable?"

"Yes master," Lucius replied. "It is my son himself, Draco, who has informed me of this. The news is doing the rounds at Hogwarts. Evidently, Potter managed to keep it all a secret affair for nearly two months."

"Two months!" Lord Voldemort said, his evil mind beginning to thing of new possibilities and ways of carrying out his plans. "It seems then that in failure lay out success and victory." He turned to Lucius and said, "Go now, Lucius. I will summon you when I will need your services. Till then, ensure that your skills with the wand do not wane."

Lucius bowed low one last time and went out of the room. Lord Voldemort got up from his chair and walked across the short length of the room, the genius of his mind analysing, planning and perfecting all the moves that his pawns made. It was a despotic rule, where he held the reins and everyone complied to his commands. It was his power and his aim. He could not afford to let his followers mess it up for him.

He walked on until he reached a wall and looked into his own reflection in the mirror hung there. What looked back from the mirror was the most hideous face anyone could possibly ever see. All the flesh that had earlier stuck to that cruel, cold-blooded face had now been seemingly torn off. There were fresh scars everywhere on the face, seemingly painless but distorting the facial structure to make it seem even more hideous. Only the skull could be seen, swathed only by a layer of gaunt, white skin. But the eyes were still the same – red and full of malice.

This was the new face of the Dark Lord, his new instrument of terror, which drove fear into the hearts of the living and filled even his own supporters with so much dread that they dared not look up at their master any more. What brought about this change, no one knew, but the fact was it only raised Lord Voldemort to new levels of spreading terror and panic in the wizarding world.

Voldemort looked into his own reflection and surveyed himself. Suddenly, he said, "Yes, I have changed quite a bit, haven't I, Potter? This is but one of my intermediate forms for soon, I shall gain immortality and invincibility."

There was a hissing sound from the corner of the room as a giant snake came and curled itself up beside the Dark Lord, all the time spitting its venom around the floor.

"Yes, and then we shall have vengeance, Nagini. You and I, we shall have vengeance," Voldemort said and let out a loud, shrill laugh that made the blood run cold.

At that moment, Harry Potter's scar burnt hotter than fire and he sat up screaming, even where he lay.

Author's Note:

Well, I've had this chapter posted on PK and FA for quite some time, but unfortunately the FF server doesn't work as well. So, sorry for the delay and hope you like the chapter.

Anyways, on a more happier note, I've crossed 100 review now on FF. So cheers to all of you who have read and reviewed.

Anyways, bye for now.


	16. Ab Initio Ad Aeternp

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Ab Initio Ad Aeterno**

**(From the Beginning till the End) **

"We shall have revenge, Nagini. You and I – we shall have revenge." These words echoed in Harry's mind as he woke up – his scar in the worst possible state of pain – his vocal chords screaming at the top of the capacity of his lungs. Lord Voldemort's last words were like the loud, noisy beat of a gong that reverberated in space for a long, long time.

Slowly, the pain in Harry's scar subsided and he opened his eyes. They were very watery, and it was a while before he could adjust his gaze properly. When he did so, he found himself looking into the concerned faces of Hermione, Ginny and Luna. Luna was looking less dreamy than usual and Harry was to know later that it was the expression she had for concern.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

Harry couldn't reply just yet. He nodded a little and took a few deep breaths. In the meantime, he heard Ron running over to him from across the castle, with Bickerstaff and Snape coming along as well. Ron seemed to have conveyed the gravity of the situation to the two professors as they too, were hurrying along to the beech tree on the grounds, under which Harry was currently set, trying to regain his much shaken senses.

Finally, Harry could feel himself breathing again. The pain was still there, though dulled.

By now, Ron, Bickerstaff and Snape had joined the little company. Harry now noticed that the sun had already set; the days were clearly short considering that it was in the middle of October. He guessed that it was now about seven in the evening.

Bickerstaff knelt beside Harry took his hand. It was cold.

"Mr Potter?" he asked, looking at the younger boy's sweat-covered brow, "Mr Potter? Can you hear me?" Snape stood beside them, watching quietly, his face as sullen as ever.

Normally, Harry would have been amused by the question considering that he was still alive, and breathing. But as for now, he was busy with his mental faculties being clogged with repetitions of the vision he had of Lord Voldemort. Still, he managed to nod weakly at his teacher.

"What happened?" Bickerstaff asked.

"I had a vision. I saw Voldemort." Harry replied.

Bickerstaff tensed up on hearing this and pain passed over his features.

However, on hearing this, Snape now rounded off upon Harry. "How many times do I have to insist upon you, Potter," he said menacingly, "that you need to be on guard constantly? Don't you understand that you are supposed to use Occlumency whenever the occasion arises?"

Harry looked up at Snape and said, "I didn't know I was asleep, and anyway, I was a having a good dream. I didn't know that the intrusion would come at such a time."

"You should have been prepared. The Dark Lord won't seek your appointment before carrying out the assault," Snape sneered.

"But-" Harry began seething at the Potions master, but he was cut off by Bickerstaff.

"Mr Potter, Severus, we could do with a little peace here," he said. On turning to the others, he said again, "I would like all of you to leave Mr Potter with us for a moment." Harry thought that Bickerstaff's body language conveyed something strange. He was clearly excited as well as a bit frightened. Seeing the confused looks on Hermione's face and that of the others, Bickerstaff reassured, "Don't worry. I am not a Death Eater and neither is Professor Snape here. Please give us a moment alone with him."

Finally, Harry's friends acquiesced and went uncertainly towards the castle. When they were out of hearing range, Bickerstaff said, "What did you see, Harry? I need you to tell me everything. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded at his teacher in understanding. He noted the fact that Bickerstaff had called him by his first name. It did seem that it was something that came naturally to him, as if he had always called him Harry, and not Mr Potter. Had he known Bickerstaff during his infancy, when his parents were still alive? If he had, he didn't remember.

Harry looked at Bickerstaff. His hair had become slightly whiter in the couple of months that he had known him. At the moment, his eyes lacked the sparkle that was reserved for the times when he taught his pupils. His face was mixed with fear and anguish, as if he himself felt the pain and suffering that Harry had had to bear. Harry then chance a glance at Snape who was still standing by the tree, sullen and expressionless as ever, waiting for Harry to say something.

He turned back to Bickerstaff and began his narration. He spoke up and told the both of them everything. He tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke. He told them everything, except for the part about seeing Voldemort himself. He felt too much terror at the sight of the face. Every time he blinked his eyes, he saw those hideous features staring back at him. He might be one of the bravest persons around but even he quailed under the shadow of that sight.

Bickerstaff took in all this information that Harry was giving them and shook his head ruefully, as if all the information did not bode that well. He took a deep breath and let it out.

It was Snape, however, who spoke up now, "Did you see his face? Did you see the Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded. A significant glance passed between Snape and Bickerstaff, as if they knew the consequences and all of what had happened. He said, "Yes, he stood in front of a mirror, almost as if he wanted to show me how he looked."

"Did you notice the change?" Bickerstaff said, even as he knew that it was an unnecessary question to ask. From what he had heard, once any one saw that countenance, he/she never forgot it.

Harry nodded.

"Well, it's just as well," Bickerstaff sighed. "Might be a blessing in disguise instead." He looked up at Snape as he said this. Snape, though, didn't react. Bickerstaff continued, "It will be useful in overcoming any sense of surprise that you might have felt at you next meeting."

"Do you believe that meeting will take place?" Harry asked, fixing his gaze intently on Bickerstaff.

But it was Snape who answered his question. "Potter, don't the past five years account for a reason to believe that?" he sneered at Harry.

Harry didn't say anything. He wasn't going to let Snape know that he agreed with him.

After a while, he asked Bickerstaff, "So how do you know of the change?" He could not bring himself to term it as anything but the 'change', not so long as the memory was so clear, so strong.

"The members of the Order have spies, Harry," Bickerstaff explained, even chancing a glance at Snape while he said so. "Even in You-Know-Who's Inner Circle, they are present. We know a lot of what is going on with him. There have only been two instances till now when we have failed completely – one was our failure in the Department of Mysteries and the other was our failure in preventing Le Tallec's assassination."

"But how did it happen?" Harry asked.

"More like he did it to himself," Bickerstaff said. "I don't know much about this except that it is one of the most powerful spells in Dark magic. I guess Dumbledore knows well enough what's going on, and he has told the Order some of it. He intended to tell you all this himself, but you came to know about it much earlier than anyone of us intended."

"What?" Harry asked.

"The new appearance of the Dark Lord and the assassination of the French minister are related. They are part of some elaborate plan of his to gain immortality," It was Snape who explained now, with an air of impatience, as if anyone walking on the road could figure out what Harry had asked. "He has kept all his plans to himself till now, and none are aware of the details, and hence that is what either I or Professor Bickerstaff can tell about this matter for now."

"But how did Lucius Malfoy get free? By the way it looks, he has gotten free without anyone having a sniff as to where he is. Otherwise the papers would have been full of news about his escape." Harry began.

"That's something I've been thinking about as well," Bickerstaff replied. "Even the Ministry's official papers show Lucius Malfoy as being a captive still…" After a pause, he continued, "I think this treachery runs quite deep, Harry. I will be informing Dumbledore of this, and we will try to get into the heart of this matter."

"But-" Harry began again.

"No, Harry," Bickerstaff stopped him. "Severus is right. We don't know anything more than this; neither does anyone else who belongs to the Order. So, you will be wasting your time if you try and ask us about all that is going on. So, let's go inside now, shall we? Your friends must still be worried."

Harry nodded. He got up. Snape nodded at Bickerstaff, who nodded back and walked swiftly away from them, in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Harry and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher walked back to the castle. Just as they entered the Entrance Hall, Bickerstaff said, "I'll part ways with you here. I have to meet Dumbledore now."

Harry nodded and looked around the deserted Entrance Hall. But he was no longer alone now, as his friends gathered all around him, anxious to ensure his well-being.

"Harry, mate, are you okay?" Ron asked, clearly concerned. Hermione had entwined her fingers with his.

"Yeah, I'm all right." Harry said.

"What happened, Harry?" Ginny asked, concern coupled with curiosity palpable in her voice.

"Look…" Harry said. "I'll talk with all of you later, all right? It's just that I'm not really feeling up to it at the moment. I'll tell you everything tomorrow."

They didn't look convinced but nodded nevertheless. When Ron came back from dinner, he found Harry's bed-curtains closed. He had half a mind to pull them open and see if he was okay, but decided against it, thinking that whatever had happened, Harry would tell him alright.

Meanwhile, Harry had skipped dinner and come up to the dorms, his mind intent on having some rest. But even as he went along, his mind was clouded by glimpses of his vision. How did Lucius Malfoy become free? What was the reason behind Lord Voldemort's transformation, something that only Dumbledore was aware of? And above all, in what way was Hermione endangered, now that the news of their relationship was out?

Harry had always known at the sub-conscious level that Hermione's friendship with him had and would always put her in danger. Ever since the Second year at Hogwarts, something or the other had happened to her, something bad, all because she had been his friend. Second year had seen her getting petrified. Third year made her deal with considerable emotional distress with Ron and him not speaking to her, even at a time when she had the greatest need of their support and understanding. Fourth year saw her at the heart of a fictitious scandal that made her the subject of incoming hate-mail from across the length and breadth of the country. Fifth year, well how could he forget that? The whole length of the year, she had spent in tempering his anger and soothing his frayed, tired nerves. The end result was a nearly fatal injury (at least that's what Harry believed; he had been too scared to talk to her about it lest she should blame him) and a curse about which he knew nothing except the words of Madam Pomfrey that said it had caused enough damage to be going on with.

All that sub-conscious belief had earlier been driven to the forefront when her parents were attacked during the summer. Still, his worries had been allayed somewhat by her soothing words which told him that he was not to be blamed. The turmoil of his mind had accepted this simple fact, glad to have a clear answer to one of the questions that constantly nagged his mind.

But again, this was undeniably different. Voldemort now knew what Hermione really meant to him. That was another weapon that he had now gathered to himself. But that did not worry Harry. What worried him were the new dangers that Hermione would now be exposed to. He didn't want to see her hurt, ever. He didn't want her to meet the same fate had had known his parents and his godfather to meet. And for that, he needed to distance himself from her.

Yes, there came the belief in distancing himself from others once again, even though he knew it was pretty much impossible for him to do so. Yet he must try. Why? Harry couldn't answer, but something told him – something like an inherent thought in his mind – that he must.

Maybe, it was something that had come to him from spending all those years with the Dursleys – being kicked around, belittled and bullied. The Dursleys always believed that the only way of getting rid of Harry's magical talent was to do precisely all these things. Such a horrible treatment meted out to him during his childhood had always made Harry withdraw into a shell. It gave him the feeling that he was cut off from the world within his coterie and immune from hurting anyone else – something that he had been forced to believe in by his relatives. Even now when he had found his place in the world, he was still sub-consciously driven by those beliefs that the Dursleys had drilled into him. Hence, he tended to withdraw into his shell once again when the situation became too overwhelming for him.

That was what Harry was beginning to do now. A lack of self-belief was coming to the fore. He had now decided what he would do, even though the fact was that he knew it was wrong on his part. He was confused and he knew it. But he didn't think there was anything around which could alleviate his misery. It was in such times that Harry missed Sirius the most. He didn't know who to talk to when things became too confusing. He didn't know now who to turn to when he could not make up his own mind.

Even as Harry pondered all this – all the while laying in his bed, eyes open and staring at the high ceiling that was faintly illuminated by the light of candles glowing around the room, beside his dorm-mates' beds – Ron came into the room and started getting ready to retire for the night. Harry lay still, hoping that Ron would not come and try to talk with him. He shut his eyes closed, just in case he decided to. Ultimately, when he heard his friend climb into his own bed, he heaved a sigh of relief.

Harry kept his eyes closed for a few moments. He could see only darkness, everything was black. His ears perceived no sound. All was still, as if the world hung by the thread of doom. Harry opened his eyes again, yet he couldn't see a thing. He wondered for a moment if he had gone blind. He involuntarily jerked his right hand up from its resting position and waved it in front of his eyes.

He was thoroughly bewildered now. He couldn't think of anything that had happened earlier, which might have caused this blindness. But even as time ticked by, relief flooded his mind as he saw his vision clearing up. He was outside now, out in the moonlight. How he had reached wherever he was, he did not know.

It was an empty street, quite like an ordinary neighbourhood as seen at midnight. The houses looked nothing like the ones owned by the Dursleys and their snobby neighbours. They were all quite unlike each other. Some were three-storied, some two. They had their lights on and looked very warm and cosy from the outside. Yet to Harry, those houses, this street conveyed a vague sense of familiarity, as if he had been here before. He somehow knew that he had, somewhere in the past, visited this place and more curiously, he felt a felling of homecoming here. It was as if the place had once been his home.

Suddenly, Harry heard a 'crack' in the middle of the road. Someone had Apparated into the village. Whether it was a wizard or a witch, Harry could not tell, although judging from the tall figure before him, it might well have been the former. The person who'd appeared started walking down the road taking long, measure strides. Every step of his exuded purpose and an unnatural sense of anticipation. Harry followed him and soon left the street where he had first appeared.

In about fifteen minutes, they came to a halt in front of a great gate, of iron bars, shut fast together. The wizard now dropped the hood of his black cloak and Harry could see the back of his head. He waved his wand in the air and was clearly performing a spell. Harry moved around to catch a glimpse of the face. He was shocked when he recognised the gaunt, white face and the red pupils in those malice-ridden eyes. It was Lord Voldemort.

Harry moved in front of him but the Dark Lord did not notice his presence. So, he was in a vision after all. Whether it was of the past or the present, Harry could not tell.

Lord Voldemort now walked steadily across the lavish grounds that led to a mansion. Harry followed, curious to see where he was. Voldemort stood before the great doors of the mansion and uttered an unlocking spell. The door opened inwards noiselessly. Voldemort went inside and began walking up the stairs, as if he were completely at home within the mansion.

Suddenly, Harry heard a person's voice from upstairs, "Lily! Take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"

There was a sound of shuffling feet as someone stumbled out from the room. Meanwhile, Voldemort directed his wand at the door of the room from where the voice had come.

Harry's face, meanwhile, drained of all colour. He knew that voice. He knew who it was addressed to. He knew now where he was. He even knew the time in which he was. He knew the outcome of all this. For he was now in the village of Godric's Hollow on Halloween night, fifteen years ago. He was about to see two people die, and a human getting vanquished to a lifeless spirit full of malice. He was visiting the night his parents were murdered, the night when he was marked as an 'Equal'.

The door burst open at the force of Voldemort's spell and revealed a dark haired man with brown eyes, standing inside, wand at the ready. His face was white and ghost-like, his whole form was trembling slightly and sweat had formed on his brow. He was clearly frightened, in all probability, frightened to death but that did not, in anyway, diminish his abilities with a wand. For as soon as Voldemort entered the room, he sent a powerful Stunner right at him. But the Dark Lord was not to be overcome so easily. He conjured up a shield effortlessly out of thin air and diverted the spell back. The man showed remarkable reflexes in side-stepping the rebounded spell. Lord Voldemort laughed his high-pitch laughter.

This was how Harry beheld his father in combat – in his last battle. His eyes had a look of determination in them. Harry knew what that meant. James Potter had decided that he would save his family from the evil menace before him, even if it meant that he would have to die tonight. Little did he know that he would have both death and have his family decimated.

"I shall enjoy killing you," Lord Voldemort hissed at James. "It's not everyday that I find someone so willing to challenge me. I've wondered sometimes with all the cowardice out there if I've not become too slack with the wand. After all, how could I let you and your wife escape me thrice?"

"This will not be our end, but yours," James answered, his voice an empty threat and sent another curse at the Dark Lord, but he dodged it easily. Harry watched in amazement. Only a distance of about twenty-five feet separated both the duellers and the pace of the spells was unbelievably fast. Yet Lord Voldemort seemed to divert the curses aimed at him with consummate ease.

James, on the other hand, had to rely more on a combination of his reflexes and his wand skills to do the same. He was putting up a very brave fight indeed. Yet as time ticked by, it was clear who the victor was going to be.

Suddenly, Lord Voldemort made a slashing movement with his wand – the same spell which Dolohov had fired at Hermione at the ministry. James could not dodge this spell and it hit him in the chest. He sank down to the floor. His chest was bleeding now. His wand slipped from his hand and rolled away across the floor.

Voldemort came up and stood in front of James now. He didn't laugh, but looked down at his defeated opponent with respect. Finally, he said, even as more blood poured out from James' wound, "You fought bravely. You kept your honour. You deserve a painless death." With that, he pointed his wand at James and said, "Avada Kedavra!"

A green light issued from the wand and hit James. At the moment, the agony of his wound subsided and he fell against the floor, never again to see the light of the day.

Voldemort swept past James' dead body and entered the adjoining room. Harry followed him. There, standing against the wall was Lilly Potter with a one-year old Harry in her arms. Her auburn hair gleamed faintly in the candlelight and in her eyes were many tears.

Voldemort stopped before her and said in a sinister, high-pitched tone, "Give me the boy."

"No, not Harry. Please not Harry. I'll do anything." Lily entreated.

"Stand aside girl, stand aside-" Voldemort reiterated.

"Not Harry, please not Harry-" Lily continued saying.

"Stand aside, you silly girl-" Voldemort repeated.

"Please don't harm him. No, take me instead. Kill me instead. But not Harry. Please have mercy. Have mercy…" Lily said between her sobs.

Voldemort only cackled in laughter. He said, "Your husband is already dead. I don't want to kill you, nor do I need to. Give me the boy and go away from here. You will see mercy then."

As soon as Lily heard this, her face hardened and her expression became stony. She had reached her resolve and would not back away now.

She brought her wand up and held it firmly in her grasp. Seeing this, Voldemort prepared for another duel but Lily did not attack him.

She merely brought her wand and drew and imaginary circle around Harry's head. She spoke in an inaudible whisper, "Let our common blood protect you till the end of days. Let the blood from within, protect you from the beginning to eternity. Ab Initio Ad Aeterno."

Harry was sure that Voldemort did not hear these words for he merely stood there waiting, wand at the ready.

Finally, Lily said, "I will not let you kill my son."

"Then, I shall have to kill you first," Voldemort replied and uttered the fatal spell. "Avada Kedavra!" and a jet of light issued from his wand and rushed to hit Harry's mother.

Even as death sped towards her, Lily closed her eyes and said, tightening her grip on the baby Harry who was crying by now, "Here it begins; and here shall it end."

The curse hit her and she collapsed on the floor lifeless. Her grip on her son loosened and he crawled towards her, trying to wake her up.

Voldemort laughed. The little Harry turned his attention towards him, his emerald green eyes incident on the Dark Wizard before him. The whole wizardkind held great fear for the person before him, yet the small child did not feel any of it. It was an innocent gaze and Harry knew even as he watched the past unfolding before him like a movie, that his younger self had no idea of the evil standing before him.

Voldemort looked down upon the infant in front of him, sizing the baby up with sharp eyes that had been honed to scrutinize and understand.

He looked at the baby and said, "You are supposed to be the one who shall challenge my superiority then? Let's see how you survive my wrath. One spell and I shall put you to an eternal sleep, and then, I shall be invincible. Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort laughed as for the third time that night, the green light emanated from his wand and hit the baby Harry. The grown-up Harry, meanwhile, looked on with anticipation. He knew the end to all this but he did not know the means to that end.

Voldemort was now laughing for all he was worth. It was the same cackling laughter that Harry always recalled hearing in his dreams. But soon, it became clear that the spell wasn't working. The green light surrounded the infant but could not touch him. Slowly, it turned to white and rebounded upon its own originator.

Voldemort watched in horror as he saw something never seen before in the annals of history. The force of his own Killing Curse rebounded upon him and struck him like lightning. He screamed so loudly at this, so hideously in pain that Harry had to close his ears with his hands to prevent that infernal sound from penetrating into his senses.

Voldemort's body collapsed to the ground and a mist formed around the room. The wind picked up and the ground began shaking violently, almost as if it were in the middle of a great earthquake. The roof blew off and a dark and cloudy sky was revealed to the eyes. Such was the storm that was brewing that Harry, even though he knew it was a vision of the past, wondered for a moment if he would make it out through this alive.

The walls of the house were now crumbling. Harry was pretty sure that the whole building would collapse. Without a second thought, he rushed over to where his infant form was and picked him up. Even as he did so, the floor sank beneath his feet and the house collapsed, becoming a heap of ruins. Harry used his mind to concentrate upon cushioning the fall and after the house collapsed, he found himself hovering in the air, his own baby form crying at all this violence, and nestled in his arms. Harry slowly brought himself down to the ground amidst all the ruins.

Voldemort's body lay a few feet away from where both 'Harrys' had landed. Suddenly, it burst into flame and the fire spread to the ruins of the house. The fire smouldered even as the wind picked up and at the same time, rain began pouring down upon the ruins. It was a strange and unique sight – wind, rain and flame existing in perfect equilibrium – three of the five fundamental forces of nature incident together on a single location.

Soon enough, the fire was extinguished by the rain and the rain was carried away by the blustery wind. The wind itself blew away all the mist that had formed after Voldemort's demise. Even as it passed, Harry felt anger and evil radiating from it. He believed it was Voldemort's vanquished spirit. Whether it saw only the baby Harry floating in the air or his grown-up form standing there as well, Harry couldn't tell.

Harry now diverted his attention towards his younger self. How he could see himself, he had no idea. Harry looked up at the forehead of the baby. He had noticed on seeing him first that there was no scar on his forehead. But now, after destiny had had its way, he saw the one sign of his fate – the mark of an equal – a lightning-bolt shaped scar had appeared on the forehead and it was now bleeding. He was crying loudly.

Harry looked at his baby form. 'This is so weird,' he thought. 'I wish Hermione were here. I don't even know how to handle a baby, even if that baby is I myself.'

Harry brought up his free hand and touched the spot where the scar, already well-defined, had now formed. It was burning hot, he could feel it from the way his skin tingled, but surprisingly, when he actually touched it Harry felt a sudden coolness envelop him – as if he were surrounded by fire all around but was laying on ice at the same time. Blood oozed from the mark and trickled onto Harry's hand as he touched the spot.

'My blood!' Harry thought. 'Our blood – the blood that protect you and me.' Things were definitely very very weird now.

Harry now heard a loud voice calling across the expanse of land that had surrounded the once erect mansion. 'Lily! James!'

He knew that voice. It was Hagrid. He must have come to take his baby form away. He wondered where to hide now. He put his younger self down on the ground (where he started crying again) and even as he did so, he felt himself being pulled farther and farther away from those ruins.

An instant later, Harry woke up under the sheets in his four-poster bed. It wasn't warm, yet he was sweating profusely.

Harry looked around himself, and was relieved to see the familiar confines of his dorm about him. Yet even as he raised his hand to his eyes and the faint light of a candle was cast upon it, he could see fresh blood there. He was also wet from the rain that had fallen.

The knowledge of the blood being there brought Harry back to his vision; he now knew what one of his recurrent dreams and visions meant. Tonight, he had visited the time and place of his parents' deaths and even played a small part in the proceedings after Voldemort was vanquished. How, he did not know. But Harry knew one thing for sure – there was a purpose to why he saw all this. There was a clear undercurrent to this. It was as if someone was trying to reach out to him and teach him something, even though he could not decipher the subject at this time.

He would have to figure this out, he knew, and the sooner he did that, the better it would be for him.


	17. Hogsmeade Confrontation

This chapter might get slightly melodramatic (I prefer to call it epic-like) and bizarre at one or two places, especially towards the end, at least that's the impression that I get on reading this. It's part of an evolving writing style that I'm trying out, so please do tell me if you like it, or if the old style read better.

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Hogsmeade Confrontation**

The end of October at Hogwarts brought with it a temporary respite from the sense of trepidation. It was time for Halloween and of the first Hogsmeade visit in the school year. The students were all very excited as they looked forward eagerly to visiting the village and enjoying the wonderful feast a while later. The former held truer for the younger students who were eagerly anticipating their first visits to the village.

For Harry, the visit held yet another significance. It marked another date with Hermione. They were to visit The Three Broomsticks and amble around Zonko's, the Shrieking Shack and all the other places of interest, just like the old times. But there were two differences this time:

(a) It would be the first time he and Hermione would go out as a couple to Hogsmeade, and

(b) It would be the first time they were going on a double 'date' with the other couple in fray being Ron and Luna.

Yes, Ronald Weasley and Luna Lovegood were now a couple as well – a most mismatched couple, if ever there was one. At least that was what Harry had thought when Ron broke the news to him and Hermione. But gradually, as Harry had heard Ron talking more and more of Luna, he realized that the mismatch was only a wrong belief, a dogma on his part. Clearly, the Kissing Humpbacks held more significance than his red-headed best friend let on. The spark was visible as Ron talked on, and Harry wished his friend the best of luck.

The Quidditch season was also drawing nearer, what with the Gryffindors' first game against the Slytherins being only about three weeks away. Ron was just as much a Quidditch training fanatic as Oliver Wood was and was working the team harder than ever. For Harry though, it was a blessing in disguise. It really did help him keep his mind focussed on the present rather than on the past which was now daily haunting him.

Harry had been getting the vision of the night his parents had died, every night, even as he closed his eyes hoping to get some rest. The details had not varied one bit from what he had seen the first time around. Occlumency too, did not seem to have any effect whatsoever on the vision. This went contrary to Harry's belief that he was getting better at closing his mind to intrusion. Even the way Snape had stopped snarling and scoffing at him during their sessions elucidated this fact. The only time that Snape had lost his foul temper with him was after he had been in Voldemort's mind. At that time, the Potions' master had told him off for letting down his defences and letting the good work that he had at last managed to get out of him, go to the dogs. Since then, there hadn't been a single flaw in Harry's performance, even though Snape had increased the frequency of Occlumency classes to thrice a week. Yet despite all these facts, the vision of the past did not vanish.

Till now, no one knew of Harry's daily foray into the past and his re-emerging insomnia. No one knew of his discomfiture, no one, i.e. except Hermione. The visions had meant that Harry had again started battling insomnia. Within a few minutes of closing his eyes, the vision began to play in his mind and once it ended, Harry could never bring himself to go back to sleep. His body was fatigued, his mind bogged with questions and top of that, he had to face a very concerned girlfriend and manage her when he was alone with her in the common room a few nights before.

Hermione looked up to Harry and said, "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry was staring out into space, his mind once again dwelling upon the questions that blocked his way at the moment. He didn't respond to Hermione's question.

Hermione came up and took a seat beside Harry. She out his hands into the palms of her own and said, "Harry, are you okay? Is something bothering you?"

This gesture seemed to have brought Harry out of his reverie. He shrugged his shoulders and answered, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're lying, aren't you?" Hermione said gently, squeezing his hands.

"No," Harry replied adamantly.

"Then tell me what you're thinking," Hermione said.

"There's a Hogsmeade visit on Halloween," said Harry, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind as he half-heartedly perused the frame of the notice board. "I'd like the both of us to go together, as on a date."

"So you would," Hermione said, "and so do I. but this isn't about Hogsmeade, Harry….no, it isn't…Harry, don't try to fool me…We've already worked out everything for the village visit, so don't give me that. Tell me straight what's bothering you."

"I told you it's nothing," Harry protested.

"It's something and I know it, Harry James Potter, and you'd better tell me before I'm forced to find out myself."

"Don't bother me," Harry said coldly, anger seeping forth.

"There's no need to get angry, Harry," Hermione said soothingly.

"Don't lecture me," Harry said harshly, raising his voice, "I know what to do. It's because of you that I'm angry. And don't try to act like my nanny, who always knows what's best for me." A strange fire leapt up in his eyes and gave vent to his frustration at his questions.

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears on hearing this. She was shocked and considerably saddened. She got up and looked to go back to the solitary confines of her four-poster bed where she could cry her hurt away. But, Harry caught hold of her hand and didn't let her go.

"Harry," Hermione said, "Let me go." Harry shook his head in reply.

"Harry, you're hurting me. Let go of my hand." Hermione said.

Harry eased her back towards himself and held her in her arms. He said, "Hermione, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please don't go."

Hermione looked at him and buried her head in his chest, overcome by sobs. Harry continued apologising, "I'm really really sorry, Hermione. I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean any of those words. I didn't even wish to speak them."

"Yet you spoke them. Words spoken cannot be taken back." Hermione said into his chest, even as she maintained a tight embrace over him.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione," Harry said again. "I'm…it's just that…that there's so much going on in my mind lately that I really don't know what to do and what not."

"Harry, tell me truly," Hermione said, "Is something bothering you?"

Harry sighed heavily. He paused for a moment and answered, "Yes, Hermione…something _is _bothering me."

"That's what exactly I'm talking of, Harry," Hermione said, "You can tell me what the matter is. I could help you."

"No one can help me, Hermione, not even you," Harry said, still locked in her warm embrace, "I have to figure everything by myself. That's the only way."

"Not exactly correct, Harry," Hermione said. "We are all here to help you figure out everything…to assist you in your fight. You don't have to do it all alone. We are here – Ron, Dumbledore, I, Lupin, the Weasleys, all of us are here. Tell me what's bothering you, Harry and we'll find a way to solve the problem."

Harry looked at Hermione. It had torn his heart apart, when he made her cry and he could never chide himself enough for that. At last, he reached a decision and said, "Okay, I guess I owe you an explanation."

"No, Harry, you don't have to do this if you are going to tell me everything just for an explanation's sake." Hermione said. "I want you to tell me only if you really want to."

Harry took a deep breath and said, "No…no, I really want to tell you." He closed his eyes and said, "You know, ever since the night I had my vision of Voldemort…ah, I don't know where to start…I don't know how to say all this."

"Try starting at the beginning," Hermione said, echoing Ron's advice of not so long ago. "Try to do that."

Harry nodded. "Well, I guess then that it all starts from the evening I had the vision of Voldemort again. That night, I had this strange dream…but the thing is it didn't seem like a dream…only it was real…I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"No, you are doing well," Hermione encouraged him.

"You see, I've been having this dream for a while but only in bits and pieces. It was only that night when I saw it at the fullest. That night, I saw my parents. I watched them die."

Harry's throat almost choked as he said the last sentence. Hermione, meanwhile, was stunned into speechlessness. A heavy silence lingered in the air. Finally, she spoke with great trepidation in her voice, "What did you see, Harry?"

Harry told her everything. He didn't leave out even the slightest detail. Hermione was a good listener and he found some relief coming to him, even as he heard and felt the weight of the secret, dropping from his shoulders. By the time, Hermione had tears in her eyes.

"Why does it always have to be you, Harry?" Hermione said finally, blinking back her tears and laying her head on his chest with their hands entwined. "Why do you have to suffer every time? Why does it always have to be you?"

"I guess it has something to do with my scar," Harry replied. "Honestly, I don't even ask why now. Everything's been like this for a long long time. I don't see why it should all change. Anyway, it's better if this happens to me and not anyone else. At least, the other person won't suffer."

"Don't say so, Harry," Hermione told him. "I don't want you to suffer. I want to see you happy, and satisfied. I want to see peace in your life. I want to do that for you, but I don't know how."

Harry couldn't say anything. He just held her closer and watched vaguely as the fire continued flickering in the grate and eventually, died out.

It was Halloween that Saturday and also a Hogsmeade visit at the same time. All students were looking forward to the day and the feast afterwards. Dumbledore had insisted that all the usual celebrations in the castle should continue despite the rumblings of war everywhere around them.

Harry came down to breakfast and sat down at the Gryffindor table. He had spent another sleepless night, being haunted by his vision. His scar was pricking steadily and an ominous feeling clouded his heart. When he entered the Great Hall, it was as if he could feel that the usual gaiety at the breakfast tables was missing. He ignored these misgivings though and turned towards his breakfast.

When Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna were later standing before Filch waiting for him to let them through along with all the others who had plans to go to the village, Harry noticed that a very substantial part of the Slytherin's population including Malfoy and his goonies were missing. This struck Harry as odd, really odd.

"I don't think we should go to the village today," he muttered to himself.

Hermione heard this and asked, "Why Harry, are you feeling unwell?"

"No, I'm all right," Harry answered. "But I've this feeling that something bad is going to happen when we get to the village."

"Are you having a vision, Harry?" Luna asked. "Trelawney said your eyes glaze over when you are in the Beyond. Your eyes look like that."

"No, he's just gone mad, haven't you, Harry?" Ron said, his voice oozing sarcasm.

"You don't believe me, okay," Harry retorted, "But then tell me why in the name of hell, all the Slytherins that are there at Hogwarts are missing from the trip."

"Let them go to hell, for god's sake!" Ron exclaimed. "Why should we care about them? Why disturb our own enjoyment for the sake of a fear!"

"It's not a fear, Ron," Harry interjected. "It's a feeling of warning."

"Whatever," Ron said. "But be sure that nothing can go wrong today."

Harry sighed and kept quiet in defeat. But he still looked fidgety. Finally, Ron was forced to say, "Harry, could I have a word with you please? Alone?" Harry nodded and both he and Ron went off across the corridor. However, this was not before Ron had proffered his sincere apologies to Hermione and Luna, saying, "Excuse me, ladies, for a moment." Luna looked as if she would swoon already at Ron's gentlemanly conduct. Hermione though, read the remark on its true intent – that of impressing Luna and merely rolled her eyes.

Ron and Harry went aside and Ron began, "Harry, what's happening here? What are you playing at? We've had this planned for days and now at the last moment, you're trying to drop out! This is not done, Harry!"

"Ron, I really have a bad feeling about this," Harry said. "I feel as if something is going to happen down at Hogsmeade, something big."

"Have you seen anything though…" Ron said, pointedly looking at Harry's scar.

"No," Harry replied truthfully. It was only a feeling with no proof to back it up.

"Then tell me, since when have you started believing in Divination?" Ron asked.

"There's no need to be sarcastic, Ron," Harry said.

"Okay, if you don't want to go, don't go then," Ron said. "But I'm going with Luna in any case." The other students had by now gone out on their way and the foursome was the only ones left behind. Filch looked at them suspiciously and said, "Better get going! And don't plan about pulling those pranks your darn brothers did, Weasley!"

Ron heard this and turned to Harry, "Just look at Hermione. She's going on worrying about you. She needs a break from all this, Harry. And today is the perfect occasion."

Harry sighed in defeat. "Okay, let's go." He said unconvincingly.

The four of them went down to the village and had a very good time for it. Harry quickly found out that Luna was quite good company, once you started overlooking her eccentricities. Ron seemed really happy at her presence. Hermione too, seemed far more relaxed than Harry had seen her for quite some time now. She was enjoying this as much as anyone, though in a quiet understated way. As for Harry, he was happy as long as his friends were happy. Although, in reality, his feeling of unease hadn't passed off as yet.

Then suddenly it happened. The foursome was making their way from Zonko's to The Three Broomsticks for lunch, when a violent blast shook the ground and a fire erupted from a building nearby. It was the Hog's Head.

Harry's worst fears had come true. He stopped his friends from running in the direction of the inn, and drew them in the direction of Honeydukes. They entered the store even as its occupants dashed outside to discover the source of the commotion. Harry took them into the cellar and uncovered the trap-door which lay there.

He quickly shouted to Ron, "Ron, take Luna and Hermione. Run to Hogwarts! Send help if you can! Go quickly! Go before the Death Eaters come! Once you get to the other side, step out through the statue opening and send for help."

Ron nodded and took Luna's hand. He helped her climb into the passage, and then followed her inside. "Hermione!" he called out to her, motioning her to follow.

"Go Hermione!" Harry said.

"Where are you going, Harry? You're coming with us," she said.

"This is no time to reason, Hermione. Go with Ron and Luna." Harry told her.

"No, I won't leave without you, Harry," Hermione protested.

"Please, Hermione! Do this for me!" Harry said. "Go to Hogwarts! Alert Dumbledore and everyone else! Go!"

Hermione took one last look at Harry and followed Ron and Luna. Harry watched them with relief as they disappeared into the passage. He knew it wasn't the shortest route to Hogwarts, but he knew that they would at least be safe following it. Now, it was his turn to do his bit.

Harry went back into the actual shop and found it completely deserted. He could see people running around outside. Yet and unearthly silence had fallen on the entire village. Harry knew it could mean only one thing. His heart grew cold; his vision foggy as known and unknown voices started ringing in his ears. "Dementors!" He exclaimed to himself.

He had the sudden urge to run and hide. He took a step back, hoping to follow his friends through the trap-door and escape. He saw in his mind the hollow, gaunt, flesh-less face of Lord Voldemort. He felt as if those red eyes perpetrated into his soul and violated his mind. But something grew inside of him at the same time. He remembered the heavenly music he had heard in his second vision. It gave him courage, and strength to resist. He found hope again inside his heart and stepped outside, wand in hand and at the ready.

What greeted him was a ghastly sight. The village of Hogsmeade had been transformed within a few minutes. Everywhere he looked, Harry saw signs of destruction. And most frightening of all, tall, black-cloaked Dementors were all swarming about terrorising their victims. Their hoods were off, revealing their horrid, featureless and decaying heads. There were about two hundred of them, maybe more and had already robbed many people of their souls. These victims were lying in the dirt, their eyes seeing, their hearts beating, yet being unable to process anything in their soulless minds.

A few people were trying to get rid of the Dementors but were failing miserably. None of them, it seemed, had mastered the Patronus Charm. Harry rushed over and neared a group of what he recognized as fifth-year students huddled together, crying, unable to cope with the effect caused by so many vicious Dementors.

'Expecto Patronum!' Harry shouted and his stag Patronus emerged from his wand to charge and the Dementors, who were advancing upon them. The Dementors fell back while the Patronus circled the students, protecting them.

Harry reached those students all the while keeping his wand ready. The Dementors in his path seemed to sense his presence and power and moved out of the way, fearing his rage. Let him go with these, they thought in their foul minds, enough souls fester in these streets. Harry commanded the fifth-years, "Follow me! And don't break away from the group!"

He led them towards the Hogwarts gates. Once they were inside safe, Harry went back to the scene of battle. He could tell that about fifty or so people had already fallen to the Dementor attacks. But he also knew there were more people here. The Dementors were still attacking the villagers; it seemed that they were under orders to destroy the whole of Hogsmeade.

Harry shot his Patronus once again at a Dementor who was swooping down upon an old man. Harry went to his help, and recognized him at once as the barkeeper at the Hog's Head. He was injured and Harry looked to take him to safety.

"Don't look after me, lad," he said, seeing that Harry was trying to get him to safety, "Just save those poor souls trapped at Rosmerta's place."

Harry was reluctant to go, but the old man would have none of it. So at last, with a heavy heart, he left him and made his way to The Three Broomsticks. He knew even from far that it was the place where most people had taken shelter, for nearly a hundred Dementors were gathered around it, even as the rest scoured the streets for more victims. Harry quickly shot his Patronus causing them to scatter. He reached the door and banged on it. "Let me in," he shouted.

The door opened and a hand drew him inside. The door was shut and barred again.

Harry looked up to see about five hundred people crowded in the room. There was no space even for air to flow. Harry suspected that there might be more survivors upstairs – where the rented rooms upstairs were. He noticed that there were many Hogwarts students in the crowd as well. All of them were terrified due to the presence of so many Dementors outside. Frightened faces looked back at Harry as he studied the situation.

He looked at all the people gathered there again and saw Neville amidst all of them. He looked terrified and cold, but was already shoving and pushing his way towards Harry.

Neville reached Harry. Harry asked him, "How many are here?"

Neville shivered as he spoke, "About a hundred more, I reckon upstairs."

"What are we going to do?" A new frightened voice interrupted them. It was Colin Creevey.

"These people, all of them here," Harry said, "Can't they help?"

"I don't think so, Harry," Neville replied, "All those Dementors out there have benumbed everyone. I don't think anyone can cast a simple spell. I myself tried the Patronus, but in the presence of these Dementors, it just faded away after a few seconds. I think no one here can even lift a wand."

Harry nodded. "Then it's up to me," he thought to himself.

Finally, after a few moments, he reached a decision. "Okay everyone," he shouted for all the people present there to hear, "There are about two hundred Dementors out there. We can't hope to save ourselves by locking up everyone of us in here. Because if we do, we'll be in more trouble. So that means, we've got to look out for ourselves, and for each other. That's the first and foremost way by which we can survive."

Most of the people just wearily heard what Harry was saying. The Dementors had far too much effect on them. But a few others, who were not affected so much, voiced their vociferous opposition. A sandy-haired man asked from across the room, "So what do you propose we should do? Go out there and fight?"

"Exactly," Harry replied. "That's what we are going to do."

The man made a sound conveying his disbelief. Another man spoke up this time, "You are mad, young man. Mark my words, those Dementors outside have driven you mad. Those things aren't natural. We already tried every spell we could on them before we came here and it makes no difference to them at all. How then are we supposed to defend ourselves when we go outside?"

"Just like I defended myself while entering," Harry replied. "All those Dementors beyond those doors will get to us, even if we don't move from here and make no mistake about it. Don't you realize it yet? Don't you realize what's happening? The Dementors are just the prelude. Death Eaters are going to arrive next. What will we do then?"

"Whatever is there on the other side of the door, we can take it on together. We will make groups of fifty and exit the building. I'll take the Dementors out for you, while you get to Hogwarts. Remember, the school is our only hope for survival now. But whatever we do, we have to hurry up. We have to escape before the Death Eaters come."

Such was the earnestness with which Harry spoke that all the people in earshot believed his words. They were instilled with new confidence that they would get out of there. But, there were still a few sceptics. "We don't need to listen to this mad boy," a woman said, "He'll get all of us killed. No, we should stay here till the Ministry arrives."

"Then tell me how the Ministry will know of this," Harry said, his impatience rising with every passing moment. "And when the Ministry wizards do come, they'll have a whole army of Death Eaters to contend with. How then will they rescue us? No, there is no other way. All those who want to survive must try and get to Hogwarts."

Finally, the crowd relented and soon the first group was on its way. The Dementors did not move. They were aware of Harry's presence and that of his Patronus circling the group. Harry led those people to the Hogwarts grounds safely. Many more were thus evacuated, right under the gazes of the vile Dementors. Yet they could do nothing about this people, since Harry's Patronus kept them at bay.

At last, after what seemed like an eternity, they were onto the last group. Harry had selected it such that seemingly the healthiest and the most courageous witches and wizards were in the group. Harry could sense a great feeling of urgency from within as the group made it way towards Hogwarts. The Dementors were following them now, intent on capitalizing upon the slightest stumble or deviation. They knew it was their last chance of claiming these souls.

All of a sudden, the resonating sound of cracks rang out through the air, signalling Apparition. Harry looked behind him. Witches and wizards wearing black cloaks and masks were appearing out of thin air. The Death Eaters had arrived.

Such was the terror that ran through the group at this that quite a few of the group broke away and started running towards the gate. "No, keep with the group," Harry shouted, but they paid no heed. The Dementors captured these stragglers and performed their kiss on them. Their stragglers bodies collapsed to the ground.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, in sadness. But this was no time to rest in grief. The Death Eaters, upon their arrival, immediately began raining down spells and curses on the escaping group. The Dementors too, took advantage of this development, and began attacking the group as well. Harry stunned a couple of Death Eaters, before turning away to see the Dementors having had joined the fray. Even as he did so, a green light jutted by him and missed him by a fraction of an inch. He realized that they could not find a way to fight the Dementors and the Death Eaters together. At the moment, the Dementors were the greater threat, since the duellers couldn't attack them back. The vile creatures were also preventing some of them from performing their magic, by exercising their terrors.

Harry cast another Patronus Charm that circled the group and once again, kept the Dementors at bay. He shouted to Neville, "Neville, watch my back will you?" Neville nodded and took up his proper position.

Meanwhile, Harry was trying to steer the group as fast as possible towards the gates. He knew that once they were surrounded, it would all be over. The Death Eaters were closing in upon them fast, efficiently shooting spells upon them in the process.

They were now only about ten feet from the gates. But, suddenly to his dismay, Harry found that they were closed now. Even in the meantime, the Death Eaters were less than fifty feet away. Their attempted escape had almost failed, even though they were only a few feet from survival. Since the gates were closed, escape was now futile.

But all of a sudden, the gates opened. Harry's Patronus prevented the Dementors from passing through the entrance. The stag led the way and Harry shouted to the remnant of his group, "Run after it. Run and don't look back till you are out of harm's way."

They did as they were told. Neville, however, stood beside Harry and pointed his wand at the Death Eaters, shooting a couple of Stunners at them.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, seeing Neville not move with the others. He blocked the curse that a Death Eater was sending towards the escapees.

"Fighting," Neville said, as he dodged a curse.

"You'd be killed if you stay here," Harry told him.

Neville saw a Death Eater sneaking in behind at Harry and took him out with a Total Body-Bind. He said, "You'd be killed if I wasn't here."

Harry looked at the Death Eater's prostrate form behind him. He used the Banishing Spell on his body to fling it across and strike three other Death Eaters. "You've got a point there," he told Neville.

He now watched the last of the group disappear behind the gates, which locked themselves. That way held no escape now.

"At least they are safe," Harry said to Neville as they liked up back to back, in order to face nearly fifty Death Eaters who were now surrounding them on all sides in a closed circle, "Now we have to fend for ourselves."

"Yeah," Neville agreed, his eyes not leaving the masked figures, "Any bright ideas to get us out of here? Or at least to keep us alive?"

"Yeah, I have a fair few," Harry answered, "I guess you do too."

"Don't point at me, mate," Neville said, "Sneaking, conspiring and escaping are all your areas of interest."

"You've got a point," Harry conceded. By now, the Death Eaters had formed a closed circle around them, thus cutting off their means of escape. The Dementors were lurking behind just beyond the inner circle.

"Don't you wish so much in these situations that we ought to have been able to Apparate?" Harry said to Neville. The war had reached a brief calm with no exchange between either side, but both boys kept their wands at the ready.

"Guess we should blame the Ministry for ignoring our wish," Neville replied.

All of a sudden, one of the Death Eaters in front of Harry came forward and removed his mask. It was Lucius Malfoy.

Malfoy looked at Harry and Neville with loathing in his cold, grey eyes. Harry stared back at him defiantly, thought it did seem to him, that Malfoy looked slightly worse for the wear following his stint in Azkaban. His skin was less lustrous and Harry could see pain and fear in the depths of his cold eyes. It satisfied him to no extent that he could see what he did in Malfoy's mind.

Malfoy said, "Surrender before us, and the Dark Lord may show you mercy; try to fight and we will kill you."

Harry laughed a mock laugh. "Has Voldemort sent you?" he asked. He knew the answer, of course, but he wanted to test Malfoy's patience.

"Do not dare to speak rashly, Potter," Malfoy responded. "You think you are brave, daring to speak the Dark Lord's name aloud, but remember that the Dark Lord will ask for a price for every insolent remark you make."

"Then tell Voldemort he'd better come here and face me if he wants to do that," Harry said, trying to appear braver than he actually felt. But he was young, and the madness of battle had filled him. He knew no fear for the moment, no apprehension as he was caught in the rush of adrenaline.

Harry could see that his words had caused great anger among the Death Eaters. Harry decided to take this one step further and incense them even more. He said, "Does your _Dark Lord_ have enough courage to do what I asked?" and turned his back on Lucius.

"Don't think that we have patience for you cheek, Potter," Malfoy said and his wand rose up lightning fast.

Suddenly, a cold voice interrupted the exchange, "Calm down, Lucius. Never get do angry that you shut your mind to reason, that's the first step towards fighting as servants of the Dark. Anyway, Potter asked for the Dark Lord, and he is come."

A black hooded and cloaked figure emerged and stood a little distance within the circle of the Death Eaters. He pulled down his hood and Harry looked at the merciless face of Lord Voldemort. It was the same terrorising face filled with scars which he had seen in his vision. Harry could feel Neville shaking in fear behind him, as beheld the Dark Lord for the first time in his life.

"Are you surprised, Potter?" Lord Voldemort hissed. "I'd have thought you would have expected to see me in my new form; to see what I have now chosen to become. Or you surprised at my arrival? I don't think you should be, or did I not hear correctly when you dared me to come here?" The Death Eaters looked at their master and kneeled before him as one man. The Dementors also seemed a little queasy, if that were possible. Such was the evil radiating from this man that even the devil chose to quail before him.

Voldemort raised his hand, signalling for his followers to rise. "Don't you see again, Potter," Voldemort said, "I am more powerful than anyone can ever imagine. Such is my power that my faithful servants kneel to me even in the midst of battle."

"Your power is evil," Harry said, "Evil does not pay."

Voldemort laughed his hideous laugh. "Still the old fool's pupil, I see," he said, "I'd have told you about all that power can give you, even control over a woman you want, and all the things you can get out of it, but I doubt you will give my words precedence over Dumbledore's. So, I'd say that the time for talk is over. As it is, it takes out too much energy off the system." He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. Harry laughed. "You know you can't possibly duel with me."

But Voldemort merely laughed his last statement off in a way that suddenly made Harry very nervous indeed. "But I can duel with him," he said and now pointed his wand at a very frightened looking Neville. "Longbottom, isn't it? I remember your parents, and the choice that I made. Did the prophecy hold true for Potter or you? That's something I often wonder."

"Leave him," Harry shouted at Voldemort. "You don't know anything about the prophecy and even if you did, he wouldn't be of any concern to you. I'm the one you want."

"Yes," Voldemort said, and then suddenly shot a jet of purple light at Neville. Harry managed to push Neville away, such that the beam struck him instead. He felt queasy for a moment, but then again felt whole and fit.

He turned to Voldemort, "Your spells don't seem to have the desired effect any more, do they?"

Voldemort merely shrugged the taunt off with a self-satisfied, contorted smile on his face. He said, "My spells don't reveal their true motives till they have the prey in their grasp."

He turned to Neville and said, "Now, let's see how you watch another of your friends die, Potter."

He raised his wand, and was about to say the fatal curse, but Harry shouted, "No! Let him go!"

Voldemort turned once again towards Harry, the renewed source of disturbance for him. "Tell me Potter," he said, "one reason why I should let him go."

Harry was silent. His mind worked frantically, trying to save his friend's life. Voldemort though merely said, "You don't have an answer. So he must die."

"No, wait," Harry said quickly, "If you let him go, I'll tell you all of what you wanted so badly last year."

"The prophecy," Voldemort whispered to himself. He then said to Harry, "Don't try to fool me, Potter. I can see easily beyond your lies. You don't know about the prophecy."

"I didn't when we met last time," Harry said, trying to keep the conversation going and bargain Neville's life out of harm's way. Anyway, Neville was too scared to speak. "But I do now. Dumbledore told me; I daresay you would believe in that, wouldn't you?"

Voldemort fell silent for a while. Harry knew that the Dark Lord was thinking furiously. Finally he said, "What if you are lying?"

"You can kill me nevertheless then," Harry said, "And since I am speaking the truth, you will hear something to your profit once you let Neville go."

Voldemort finally laughed. "Dumbledore has taught you to bargain, Potter," he said, "like all cowards do…Nevertheless, your friend shall go…in any way, he doesn't stand any importance for me, except as a sport….Let him pass." He ordered his Death Eaters and the Dementors.

Harry nodded at Neville, who took fearful steps towards the Hogwarts gates and passed through the enemy circle. The gates opened to accommodate him and closed on his entry again. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

But his relief was short-lived as he was reminded of the price that he was to pay for his friend's safety.

Lord Voldemort hissed at him and said, "Now Potter, tell me the truth…"

Author's Note:

Ah, yes! That's a wicked cliffie and an equally wicked twist, isn't it? Tell me how you liked this by dropping in a review.

Anyway, the next chapter should be out in about two weeks' time. It will be titled 'Isle Amidst the Storm'. The chapter that I promised instead of the present one, i.e., 'The Ancient Secret of War' will be the one after that.

Bye for now. And please do review. They encourage me no end.


	18. Isle Amidst the Storm

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Isle Amidst the Storm**

Lord Voldemort turned to Harry and hissed, "Now Potter, tell me the truth…"

Silence invaded the entire surrounding there as Voldemort looked into Harry's eyes and Harry defiantly looked back into his. It was the calm before all hell broke loose.

Before Harry could speak anything, sounds of Apparition resonated through the village. Harry saw Order members Apparating into Hogsmeade. Right next to Harry, the sound of Apparition revealed the figure of Albus Dumbledore.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed on seeing the new arrivals. Except that, his face didn't betray any sign. Neither side made any move to start the battle. It was as if both were waiting for the other to strike the first blow.

Dumbledore was the first one who spoke. He said, "It was an ingenious move, Tom – attacking Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley on the same day. Attack the enemy from both sides and stretch his resources, isn't it that one?" It was as if they were sitting back in a Hogwarts classroom of fifty years ago and Dumbledore was taking Tom Riddle's class.

"You made a mistake coming here, Dumbledore," Voldemort said. "You are outnumbered."

"Outnumbered, yes, Tom," Dumbledore said, "but not outwitted. For one, I know that numbers don't hold significance in a battle. I don't think you would have forgotten that lesson."

"You know nothing, Dumbledore," Lord Voldemort hissed and spat at the old Headmaster. "I have moved on beyond your comprehension."

"The basic moves of war still remain the same, Tom," Dumbledore responded. "You can only fashion them to your whims but you can never claim to make them. You cannot take so great a claim and place it on one mind. I hope you've not forgotten the text."

"The text was all false," Lord Voldemort said, "All it was good for was to learn how to acquire power. And now that I have got it, I do not need it. You cannot imagine what I can do with absolute power."

Dumbledore responded, "Neither do you, for you do not have absolute power yourself."

"You talk too much Dumbledore, even as you act too slowly," Voldemort said and with a lightning fast move, shot a Killing Curse at Harry. But Dumbledore was equally quick. He used his own spell to push Harry out of harm's way.

"If you have to get to Harry, you'll have to face me first," Dumbledore said.

"Why Dumbledore? Why? Why is the boy so important?" Lord Voldemort said, "What does he mean to you?"

"That is for me to know and you to find out," Dumbledore replied grimly. And then the duel began in right earnest.

Voldemort shot a Killing Curse at Dumbledore, but with a flick of his wand, Dumbledore had it intercepted by a large rock which had rested nearby but was now shattered into a thousand pieces. It seemed to Harry that the fateful night at the Ministry last June had now returned again, since he could still see shades of that duel in the present one, as if it were the latest instalment to an unresolved argument.

"You cannot kill me, Dumbledore," Voldemort hissed as he shot another Killing Curse at the old Headmaster.

"I don't intend to, Tom, as you should very well know by now," Dumbledore responded. "First, you need to feel the pain and punishment destined for you before you die. Killing you would give you a respite from all that." Harry wondered vaguely for a moment at this statement but being in the middle of a full-fledged battle, he realized that he had no time to stop and think.

The exchange between Dumbledore and Voldemort proved to be the orders that both sides were waiting for, almost like a catalyst to an explosion. Fighting erupted on both sides as spells were cast by all present. The Dementors swooped amongst the duellers targeting the Order members. Harry realized that with Dumbledore duelling Voldemort and the remaining Order members engaged in the peripheral battle, the Dementors were free to choose and then feast upon their prey.

He quickly moved out of the line of fire and shouted, 'Expecto Patronum!' The Patronus did its work as the Order members became immune from the terror of the Dementors. They were now filled with greater zeal.

"Harry!" he found a voice shouting to his right, "Get out of here!" He saw Lupin telling him as he engaged himself in fierce combat. "Get out of here now!"

Harry did as he was told and ducked and swooped from under the Duellers avoiding them. Then he noticed a circle of Death Eaters battling a lone Order member, who was standing in their midst. Harry jumped into the fray and took out a couple of those Death Eaters. He realized that Order member in question was Mad-Eye Moody. Even with those two out, Moody still had a ring of Death Eaters surrounding him. But true to his lunacy, he seemed to be enjoying the duel, not withstanding the fact, that it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hold his ground.

Harry Stunned a few more Death Eaters around moody so as to lighten the ex-Auror's load. But seeing him, Moody shouted, "Potter, what are you doing here? This is no place for a kid."

Harry was sure that he was seeing him through his magical eye, which must be seeing out of the back of his head, since Moody's back was turned to him. Harry had a good mind to tell Moody that he wasn't a kid and was also the first and only person to have begun fighting the Death Eaters here, but Moody was distracted by the challenge posed by another of the enemy.

Suddenly though, Harry felt himself being rammed to the ground as a Death Eater fell over him. Harry was about to roll him over and get up when the cold voice of Severus Snape spoke up, "Get out of here, Potter. Here's a portkey that will transport you to Hogwarts. And don't linger here. The Order is only waiting for your exit."

In the thick of the battle, no one noticed this exchange. Harry scrambled onto his feet, the portkey safely kept in his pocket and made his way towards the refuge of Honeydukes. He knew it could prove potentially dangerous to use the portkey in the midst of battle since you never know who might latch on to you.

Soon, Harry left behind the thick of the battle and neared his destination. But he suddenly saw a shock of brown hair in front of him. He knew who it was. It was Hermione. She was duelling with a Death Eater, and was doing okay. But suddenly, she tripped heavily against a stone and fell to the ground. The Death Eater, now in complete control, directed his wand at his fallen opponent and fired the Killing Curse at her. But suddenly, he found the curse being blocked by a barrel, which in turn, shattered on being hit with the sell. Harry had seen Hermione's dilemma and come to her rescue.

He took the onus of the duel upon himself even as Hermione tried to get up. Finally, he succeeded in Stunning his opponent, and rushed to her side. She was sitting on the ground, clutching a very painful ankle.

"Harry, I think…I think my ankle is broken," she told him.

"Don't worry," he said, "Let me help you out of here."

"Harry!" Two voices called out to him from nearby.

Harry looked around to see Ron and Luna running towards them. A Dementor tried to intercept their path but Harry's Patronus took care of it.

"Ron! Luna!" Harry said as they came, "I thought I told you to go back to Hogwarts."

"That you did," Luna answered, "But we didn't promise we would."

"I'm really sorry, mate," Ron began, "I should really have listened to-"

But Harry cut him off. "Look guys," he said, "This isn't the place to talk. There is a battle going on, for God's sake. Let's get out of here."

"How can we do that?" Luna asked. "Hermione cannot walk, can she?"

"Don't be silly," Harry said, "We are going to use a portkey." He fished out the portkey that Snape had given him from his pocket and the four of them placed their fingers on it. The Portkey was a broken wooden spoon.

"It'll activate any second now," Harry said. Suddenly, Harry felt something coming at him from behind. He turned his neck around to see a Stunner being directed at him. Suddenly, it hit him and the last thing he knew before losing consciousness was a jerk behind his navel.

* * *

"Am I dead?" Harry asked into the air, to no one in particular. He opened his eyes to find himself in a very well-lighted room, bright sunlight reflected from all the walls and the ceiling.

"Of course, you aren't dead," came a vaguely familiar voice from his right.

Harry scrambled for his glasses. A hand offered them to him and instantly, even as he wore them, the world came back into focus. He looked to his right to the owner of the hand, and his eyes very nearly dropped out of their sockets as he nearly fainted at who he saw, "Dad!" he croaked. James Potter nodded.

Harry looked around himself. He was lying in a large bed in a brightly ventilated bedroom. Wardrobes and shelves lined the walls. The wallpaper showed the posters of an unfamiliar Quidditch team named the Rochedale Rovers. The players were waving about at Harry as he watched them intently. To his right, there was a chair on which sat James Potter.

"Dad!" Harry exclaimed again, disbelieving his own eyes. James nodded once again. There was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips and amusement in his voice.

"But…but…this cannot be…You…You died," Harry stammered.

"Indeed, I did," James replied, getting up from his chair and walking to a nearby window. "I am still dead," he said as he looked out.

"Then am _I_ dead?" Harry asked.

"No, I already said you're not dead," James replied.

"Then how…how are you here?" Harry asked, getting up from the bed and joining his father at the window. It looked out onto a large, beautiful garden outside. Sprawling lawns, great, tall trees and beautiful flowers, from primroses to bluebells to violets could be seen from the first floor window where they were standing at.

"It's just an illusion, Harry," James explained. "I don't know how it came to be or in what form. All I know is that I found a shadow of myself getting called back from the Realm of the Dead to the Realm of your mind. I'm just an echo of my real form. It is just an illusion."

Harry heard the door to the room creak open and looked around. Standing in the doorway was his mother. Harry looked at her, and once again realized that why so many people who had known her were quick to tell Harry the fact that he had her eyes. Because, Lily's eyes were the most expressive features of her pretty face, as he now saw on her smiling countenance.

"Well, you are finally awake then?" she said lovingly, her eyes sparkling at her son.

"Mum?" Harry said, his eyes widening at the sight of her alive and walking.

"Yes, of course," Lily said, "Don't you recognize me when you see me?"

"But…you were…are you alive or is this another illusion?" Harry asked.

"Everything is an illusion here, Harry," Lily explained. "This is the Realm of your mind and you are trapped in it. How this illusion began weaving yourself into its web, we do not know. But this is the world as you want it to be, as you envision it. That's why you are seeing us here. Because you are inside your own mind, held as a prisoner."

* * *

Hermione looked at the prostrate form of Harry lying before her. Tears sprang up in her eyes as she noticed him lying peacefully on a bed in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was hustling and bustling all around him, giving him a thorough check-up so as to determine the source of his current predicament.

The four of them – Harry, Hermione, Ron and Luna – had landed in front of the Entrance Hall. Three of them had landed properly but Harry's landing had been a different matter altogether. His limp body had slammed firmly into the ground. They had rushed over to Harry to find him unconscious. Guessing correctly that he had somehow been stunned, Hermione enervated him but to no effect. This really surprised her. She checked for a pulse and discovered a faint throbbing of Harry's veins in order.

"We've to get him to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione told Ron and Luna and conjured up a stretcher for him. She had tried to keep her worry from creeping into her voice but she knew she had failed. Her friends appeared equally worried for Harry's safety. They stretchred him to the Hospital Wing. Ginny was there in the Entrance Hall, as was Neville and they rushed to help the three of them. Once in the Hospital Wing, even as Ron told Madam Pomfrey about what had happened, the nurse began hastily examining Harry. After she finished with the check-up, she informed them, "I've never seen anything like this my entire life. He has a high fever running, almost as if he is delusional and under some spell. Did you perhaps happen to see if he was struck by a spell or not?"

Hermione looked at Ron. He shook his head at Madam Pomfrey and said, "No."

But it was Neville who spoke up timidly this time, "He got a spell from You-Know-Who. But it didn't seem to make any difference to him." The others stared at this revelation.

"If the spell did make any difference, I don't know how," Madam Pomfrey said grimly, "This looks beyond my skill to heal."

"Madam Pomfrey," Ginny spoke, "Is Harry going to be all right?"

The nurse didn't reply. Instead, she said, "I'll keep him here. Mr Weasley, please go and see if the Headmaster has arrived. Bring him here immediately if he has." Then, she proceeded to repair the break in Hermione's ankle, which Hermione ironically didn't notice.

Ron nodded and went outside. He rushed to the Entrance Hall and onto the grounds. Some students had informed him that there was a group gathered near Hagrid's hut. Twilight had set in. Stars had begun to appear. Smoke could be seen spiralling into the sky from the direction of Hogsmeade village as a dark shadow, rather like a pillar. But Ron's attention was, at the moment, directed towards the direction of Hagrid's hut where about thirty wizards and witched were currently congregated, just as he had been informed.

Ron rushed in the middle and straight to Dumbledore, who was looking as calm as ever, "Professor, Harry…he is in the Hospital Wing, unconscious. Madam Pomfrey asked for you. She can't see what's wrong."

Voices broke out in the group at this, but Dumbledore didn't heed them. Immediately, he made his way towards the castle. The group meanwhile, looked on after them, worried. Ron and Dumbledore reached the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore immediately rushed to Harry's side. He took his hand in his own and felt his forehead. It was still burning hot.

"Professor, what's happened to him?" Hermione asked. Dumbledore didn't reply. All the teens along with Madam Pomfrey looked on as the Headmaster continued to feel at Harry's palm and his forehead. He was uttering something under his breath but it made no effect whatsoever on Harry. The Headmaster's face looked graver by the second, as if what he learned deeply disquieted him.

"Professor, what's the matter?" Hermione asked again, her voice tearful, "Is he going to be alright?" Dumbledore didn't reply.

It was Ron who spoke up angrily this time, "Why don't you answer her, dammit? Why?"

But Dumbledore merely raised a hand in Ron's direction, signifying the need for silence. They watched on as the Headmaster continued his examination.

At last, he looked up and sighed. He said to Madam Pomfrey, "Poppy, remember you must not use any magic whatsoever on him, none, and do not allow anyone else to do so. Don't worry about his fever; it's just an effect of the turmoil within his mind. But remember! No magic!"

"Professor, what's happened to him?" Ron asked Dumbledore in a strained voice.

"I don't know for sure," Dumbledore replied. "All I can say for now is that his mind is in great turmoil and only Harry himself can find a way to get himself out of this. None of us can help him." He took one last look at Harry and said to Ron, Luna and Hermione, "Come now, it's time for the dinner to begin. I have to address the whole school before that."

"I want to stay here," Hermione said definitively, still looking at Harry, her voice devoid of any emotion. She had felt hope balloon in her heart when she had seen Dumbledore come in. But even that had faded as Dumbledore failed to cure Harry. Her heart sank and she was languishing in the depths of despair now, as she held Harry's hand in her own palm, and caressed it with soft, smooth touches.

Madam Pomfrey moved as if to dissuade her but Dumbledore shook his head at her. He said, "You'd better come with us as well, Poppy. I want the entire school to be in the Great Hall when I brief them of everything."

They moved out of the Hospital wing at this. Dumbledore closed the doors softly behind them as they exited the ward. Hermione though, didn't notice this.

She remained as she was and merely continued looking at Harry. "Please Harry, if you are listening," she said silently, feeling that his thoughts would reach him, "I love you very much and can't bear to be separated from you. Please come back. Harry, please come back for me. Please do."

She got up from her seat and kissed his burning forehead. She then went back to sitting beside him, waiting over him and stayed as such the whole night. When Madam Pomfrey came back, she didn't say anything to her, but after giving Harry another check-up, she retired to her office. It was only the next morning that Hermione moved when Madam Pomfrey woke her up and told her to go to Gryffindor tower, and then her classes.

* * *

Dumbledore walked into the Great Hall. It was filled with all the students Hogwarts played home to, yet it lacked the usual cheer and merrymaking. News of the attack had reached all corners of the school by now, what with many of the older students actually bearing witness to the Dementor attack. Rumours too, had begun to take roots, and it was now the Headmaster's task to dissipate them and to tell them the truth.

Dumbledore went up to the Staff table and stood before the entire school, looking at all the eager (and frightened) faces of the audience. He began, "Alas it is my duty to inform all of you about the grievous events of today. Today, Lord Voldemort (there was a gasp at this throughout the Great Hall) shook the very edifice upon which the existence of our world is based. Today, the Dark Lord showed us the extent of his power.

"You must have gotten the news of what happened at Hogsmeade from the first-hand accounts of many of our own number. Hogsmeade is no more now. All the landmarks that once marked the village have now been razed to the ground – The Three Broomsticks, Hog's Head, Zonko's, Honeydukes, even the Shrieking Shack. All the signs of the merry times that all of us had at some time or the other in the village, have now been decimated. About seventy people have lost their souls to the Dementors. Many more have been hurt, both in terms of physical hurt and the loss of family, friends, homes and possessions. Yet they have escaped with the most precious thing – their lives – and while those remain intact, hope will never fade.

"But besides Hogsmeade, there was also an attack on one of our most beloved places – Diagon Alley. The alley was attacked in much the same fashion at Hogsmeade, yet it suffered less damage, in part due to the timely intervention of Aurors.

"These attacks on two of the most well-known locations in our world have shown us what difficult times we face. Evil has not only risen, but has now surrounded us like a dark cloud. In such times, it is only the strength of our minds that can help us fight it. They say, 'The mind is in its own place and can by itself, make a heaven of hell and a hell of heaven'. We have the power but we only need to find where it lies to use it justly.

"Lastly, I must mention the role of one person in all these matters – Harry Potter. I have no doubt that most of you have seen or heard of what he did today at Hogsmeade. For those of you who have not, I will tell you. Harry Potter took it upon himself the onus of warding off the attack on Hogsmeade and saving the people trapped in there. He did so successfully, and having done that, he showed the kind of courage and strength that make us proud of being gifted with the powers of wizards and witches, the very thing that embodies the ideals of this school. He faced Death Eaters, thwarted them and stood up to Lord Voldemort once again. Had it not been for him, our losses at Hogsmeade would have been much greater and many of us sitting at the moment in the Great Hall, would have instead found themselves bereft of their lives and their souls. He had a choice before him, to choose his own safety or that of the others, and he chose the just path.

"No doubt, you may be wondering where he is at the moment, why he is conspicuously absent tonight. The reason is that Harry's bravery did not come without a price. At the moment, he is in the Hospital Wing, fighting another great battle – possibly the greatest and most important battle he has ever fought – that against his own mind. So, let us pray tonight that Harry is given the power and the strength to protect his mind. Let us pray that he wins this battle and comes out of it even stronger – as a hero who all of us have every reason to honour."

Dumbledore raised his goblet and most of the students, with the exception of many of the Slytherins, followed suit.

Dumbledore sat down in his chair and sighed. Severus Snape was sitting next to him tonight. He said, "Headmaster, the Dark Lord calls." Dumbledore nodded.

Snape got up and walked out of the Great Hall. Dumbledore stayed on a few more minutes before he too got up and left.

The students of Hogwarts didn't pay notice to this. They were too busy talking about all that had happened and was said in the last twelve hours.

* * *

Dumbledore walked to his office, lost in his thought. He entered and was immediately faced by Professor Elijah Bickerstaff.

"I didn't see you in the Great Hall tonight, Elijah," Dumbledore said. Bickerstaff observed Dumbledore closely. He felt as if the years had caught up finally with Dumbledore. The cloak of infinite energy and enthusiasm that he wrapped around himself all the time was gone. He looked an old and broke man whose last gamble seemed to have failed miserably.

"You look terrible," he commented.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, sighing, "Much sorrow has befallen me tonight."

"Your brother Aberfroth?" Bickerstaff enquired mildly.

"Yes, and that is not the least of my worries," Dumbledore said, "Aberfroth lived a full life. Even though I did never quite understand him myself, he did that well. He made mistakes and enjoyed them. It's just that I would never wish such a death at the hands of a Dementor to anyone."

"Where is he now?" Bickerstaff asked.

"At Headquarters," Dumbledore replied. "As still as a stone. As dead as a stump."

"Isn't there any way to…" Bickerstaff began.

"You know quite well there isn't any, at least not one that is known," Dumbledore replied.

"What about Potter?" Bickerstaff asked. "I heard he has not awoken yet."

"You heard right," Dumbledore answered. "He's still unconscious."

"Any ideas as to what might have happened?" Bickerstaff asked.

"Many," Dumbledore replied, "But none based on concrete proof."

"Kingsley told me that the Ministry is contemplating giving a posthumous Order of Merlin to the boy already," Bickerstaff informed the Headmaster.

Dumbledore responded, "They are being ludicrous. He is not dead."

"Will he be?" Bickerstaff asked. Dumbledore pursed up his lips and turned to look out of the window. It was dark outside. Not a star to be seen, he thought.

"Can he stay alive after this?" Bickerstaff rephrased his question. "Is there any hope for him?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore said. "I have sensed great anguish and query in his mind. There is great turmoil. In the end, it is going to be the strength of his mind that's going to determine if he passes this test or not. This is exclusively the test to verify the steel of his mind."

"He is ready, isn't he?" Bickerstaff queried.

"If he gets through this, he will be," Dumbledore replied.

Bickerstaff smiled inwardly. "That's all I wanted to know," he said and got up to leave. But before going, he gave away a few last words of advice, "Aberfroth died in a war, Dumbledore. I hope you remember that."

"I do," Dumbledore replied, "But that doesn't change the fact that he was my brother or that this war is of my making."

Bickerstaff shook his head lightly, not having got Dumbledore's meaning and quietly exited the office, leaving Dumbledore immersed in his thoughts.

'How many are going to fall victim to this war?' Dumbledore thought. 'How much longer shall I have to endure this eternal torment?'

'Only so long as you are capable of,' came the reply.

* * *

It was the day after Halloween. The Daily Prophet had been full of reports about the attack on Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, which was expected. Harry hadn't woken up yet.

It was eight in the evening and Hermione was sitting at Harry's bedside. Professor Dumbledore had allowed her to be with him in the Hospital Wing except for the time of her classes and up to ten in the evening. So here she was sting near him, reading and keeping up with her school work, yet not failing to let him be subconsciously aware of her presence.

Harry had had a stream of visitors tonight. All the DA members had been here, at some point of time or the other, as also all those who Harry had helped save at Hogsmeade. Many of the younger Gryffindors had also visited him. Everyone had asked how he was and Hermione had answered with the same words. There was no change in his condition from the previous day.

Hermione heard the doors of the Hospital Wing open. She presumed it was Madam Pomfrey. The school nurse, along with many other Healers across Britain had been summoned to St Mungo's urgently, taking into consideration the number of injuries, both minor and grievous, that had occurred. Hermione, even while not lifting her eyes off the book she was studying (with one eye on the lookout for Harry at the same time), was mildly surprised that Madam Pomfrey had returned so quickly.

The sound of footsteps followed. It was definitely more than one person. She looked up to see Malfoy, Goyle and Crabbe walking towards Harry's bed.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione asked in a warning tone as they neared.

"Nothing with you, Mudblood," Malfoy spat back rudely, "Anyway, it's not with you that I've business tonight; it's with your dear Potter." Malfoy ran his finger along Harry's forehead and then remarked, "Nasty business with the fever, isn't it?"

Hermione flung Malfoy's hand away and shouted, "Keep away from him, Malfoy." Immediately, she found her arms being pinned backwards by Goyle. Hermione tried to struggle but Goyle had her firmly caught. Malfoy walked around the bed and stood before her, his faces inches from her own. Hermione found the sight of his evil sneering face most repulsive.

Malfoy sneered, "Don't try to bite off more than you can chew, Mudblood. Anyways, I was just here to give Potter a message form the Dark Lord. Now, since he is half-dead, I'll tell you what it is. You can convey it to him in whichever way you will if he _does_ wake up. Tell him, 'It is not the Dark Lord's spells that have waned; it's Potter's own defence. The Dark Lord is all powerful. Potter can run, but he can never hope to hide.'"

"Is that all that you have been told to say, page-boy?" Hermione taunted, steel glinting in her eyes.

Draco slapped her across the face. "Don't dare insult me, Mudblood," he sneered, "or you'll find yourself in big trouble."

He turned away, but then turned back again, regaining his oily manner. He inched closer to her. His body almost touched hers. He said softly, "On the other hand, you might decide to give me something," he looked at her body as he said this and started running his fingers up her arms, "and I'll give you something back in return, something you want, something like Potter's awakening."

Hermione did not react with her words. Instead, she shoved her knee hard in between Malfoy's legs. There was heavy contact and the strike at a very sensitive spot meant that he hunched over in great pain, howling and cursing at the same time. Goyle tried to twist her arm further but she stepped heavily on his feet. He let go of her and started jumping about the place in pain of his throbbing foot. He almost brought about an earthquake in his wake. Crabbe made a jump at Hermione but she dodged him. Instead, he struck a bottle containing some potion. It fell to the floor and broke, and the potion splattered all over on Goyle's robes, which caught fire immediately. Now, the witless baboon had to think about his burning robes aside from his throbbing feet.

Before any of the three could get her again, Hermione took her wand from Harry's bedside table and pointed it right in Malfoy's face. "What were you saying again," she asked.

Malfoy felt a bead of sweat running down his eyebrows.

"Now, will you go or shall I make you?" Hermione threatened.

She saw that Ron and Neville were now standing in the doorway, staring open-mouthed at what was going on. Hermione glared at Malfoy and his cronies.

They staggered to their feet and rushed out of the ward. Malfoy was still holding his painfully throbbing crotch. Ron and Neville followed the Slytherins' departure with amused looks on their faces.

"Did we miss anything?" Ron asked.

Hermione replied, "Not much…"

"What happened to them? And why was Malfoy holding his…" Ron trailed off as they neared Harry's bed. It seemed he'd just realized Hermione's presence as that of a girl.

"I kicked him there," Hermione answered nonchalantly.

"Oh my God! Hermione, I don't know how to say this, but it really hurts down there," Ron said. Neville nodded in agreement. "Even for Malfoy, that must hold true."

"Then I'm glad to know that," Hermione said and sat back in her chair.

"Whoa there!" Ron exclaimed. "He must have done something serious."

"He did," Hermione affirmed, "He delivered for Harry, a threat from Voldemort."

"He didn't," Ron exclaimed angrily, though not before he and Neville had flinched at the Dark Lord's name. Hermione nodded, "He did."

"What!" Ron exclaimed, looking ready to murder. "I'll kill that treacherous bastard!"

"Calm down, Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "You're being melodramatic."

Ron glared at her but sat down nonetheless beside Harry's bed. Neville had already taken a seat.

"Madam Pomfrey not here yet?" Ron enquired. He had been to Quidditch practice earlier; the entire Gryffindor team except for Harry had been on the pitch. Hermione shook her head in reply to his question.

"You know," he said, "Dumbledore gave us permission to postpone the game against Slytherin if Harry isn't fit till then. He has asked the Hufflepuffs to play them instead." Hermione nodded glumly.

"Harry would like hearing that, when he wakes up," Hermione said, looking at Harry, his closed eyes conveying a calm, peaceful appearance.

"You know," Neville said, speaking up for the first time in a quiet voice, "I never really knew how much courage Harry possessed till yesterday."

"Neville," Ron said, "We still don't really know what happened after everyone was rescued, everyone except you. Tell us what happened."

"Ron, let him be," Hermione chided Ron mildly. She had noticed that Neville had been refraining from broaching the subject.

"It's okay, Hermione," Neville interjected. "It isn't as if it were a complete disaster." And with that, he began narrating. But he hadn't spoken more than a few words when the door opened yet again and Luna and Ginny walked in. Both were looking slightly harassed by the burden of studies that was being heaped on them. The sextet that had fought once together in the Department of Mysteries had assembled and was complete once again.

"How is Harry now?" Ginny asked as they came up and drew more chairs around his bed. "He does look peaceful, doesn't he?"

Even though Hermione was deeply worried by Harry slipping into a coma like this, she couldn't deny that what Ginny had just said was true. He looked like a baby, relaxed and relieved from all his burdens. Yet, Hermione knew from what Dumbledore had said that it was only a façade. Lots was going on inside his mind, something that no one from outside could see.

Ron chided Ginny, "Ginny, keep quiet and let Neville speak."

Neville started speaking once again. He spoke of how the people of Hogsmeade were rescued and they were assailed by Death Eaters later. He came to the part where Harry challenged Voldemort and faced him, how he bargained Neville's life for the prophecy. When he reached the part, Ron shot a glance at Hermione. She looked quite pale.

As he ended, Neville said, "I don't think I can ever forget his face. I've never felt so frightened in my entire life. I mean, all those Dementors there, and I still felt like they could never compare in terror to him." Hermione regarded Neville sympathetically. Ginny was looking at him strangely.

The five of them talked quietly among themselves about the goings-on in the wizarding world. At nine, i.e. the time for curfew, Ron, Luna, Ginny and Neville said their good-byes to Hermione and went to Gryffindor tower. Hermione though, chose to stay there beside Harry till Madam Pomfrey returned. After the others went, Hermione went back to her study, but she could not concentrate – a rarity in itself. Somehow, Neville's words regarding Lord Voldemort still rand in her ears.

She leant forward and took Harry's hand into her own, "You're really brave, Harry," she said softly, "Show that courage once more now and please come back to me."

* * *

As Hermione left the Hospital Wing that night after Madam Pomfrey's arrival, she was making her way back to Gryffindor tower. She had this weird feeling that something was wrong somewhere, that she had missed something along the way. Suddenly, it hit her.

She ran to the Headmaster's office at full speed and without bothering to knock, entered his office directly. Dumbledore directed his attention towards her from behind his desk.

"It was that spell, wasn't it?" Hermione said, her voice shaking in anger. "That spell caused it. _You_ know, and yet _you_ have not done anything."

"The spell has no counter, Hermione," Dumbledore said calmly.

As she heard these words, Hermione's heart sank once again. She asked, "What does it do?"

"It makes the victim a prisoner of his own mind," Dumbledore explained, "He begins to live and dwell in an illusion that his mind dictates. The illusion is normally so wonderful that the victim chooses to stay in it instead of freeing himself. Unless the victim himself breaks the shackles, he forever remains a prisoner of his own mind."

"Has anyone succeeded in recovering?" Hermione asked, dreading the answer. Dumbledore shook his head.

"Will Harry be okay?" she asked, seeking the assurance that she so desperately needed.

"I have no doubt he will," Dumbledore answered. "After all, he's proven history wrong before." The Headmaster's voice was most sincere.

Hermione's shoulders drooped. She said, "I'm sorry, Professor…for disturbing you like this."

"Don't be," Dumbledore said, "But I think it is time for you to go straight back to Gryffindor tower."

Hermione nodded and left the office without a word.

* * *

Author's Note:

Dearie me! cough That was another big one with the million-dollar question being, "Where is Harry?" Don't worry. cough, cough, cough It will be revealed in the next chapter – 'Visions of the Dead'.

Thanks for all the reviews you have given to this story. Please stick with me till the end and yes, enjoy reading. cough

P.S. I really do have a bad viral fever cough at the moment. I hope it passes over like a cloud and I can get back to serious writing soon. cough, cough


	19. Walking With The Dead

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Walking with the Dead**

Harry sat around the circular table in the large, spacious kitchen downstairs. His father was sitting to his right, reading a newspaper while his mother made some kippers, bacon and toast for breakfast.

Lily laid down the food in front of Harry and the three of them sat down to enjoy the meal. Harry found himself quite hungry. He dug into the food. It tasted extremely delicious. Evidently, Lily Potter was a very good cook indeed. Harry hungrily devoured most of his breakfast. It wasn't a pretty sight – the way he was wolfing everything down. It was more like Ron was the one eating at the table.

"Harry dear," Lily said, "Slow down! There is no need to wolf everything down so fast. The food is not running away anywhere."

"Calm down Lily!" James told his wife. "Let him eat his fill. He is a growing boy after all."

Harry grinned at his father, but did indeed, slow down his pace. All of a sudden though, another doubt shrouded his mind. His hands relaxed and his mind whirred up into overdrive.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Lily asked. "I asked you to eat slowly, not stop eating altogether. Is there something wrong with the bacon, honey?"

"No, no, not at all," Harry replied, shaking his head, "The food is fine…in fact, it's delicious…But I was just thinking…If this is just an illusion instead of something concrete, why do we have to eat? Why do we have to do anything at all?"

Lily looked pointedly at James, who removed his glasses and put down his newspaper on the table. He turned to Harry and said, "We wondered how soon you'd reason that out…how soon you'd ask us that question."

"Then I suppose you have an answer ready as well," Harry said.

"Right," James replied, "You see Harry, these are all tricks that your mind is playing on you. You are being supplied with images of a reality which does not exist. In other words, your mind is imposing its own will upon you. In an attempt to supplant the truth and make you believe in this reality, it has conjured up these images for you – to make the illusion all the more believable."

"I don't understand-" Harry began to say, but Lily cut him off.

She said, "You see Harry, this is like an alternate universe; only it is something that your mind dictates. In this universe, there is no Lord Voldemort. He remained as Tom Riddle and the Dark Lord never did exist. It's a universe in which we never died, in which you never had to live with Petunia. Tell me what your reaction would be if all these things had really happened."

"I'd be the happiest person alive," Harry replied, without needing to think.

"Precisely." James said, "You're in an illusion in which everything you ever wanted has come true. That's what your mind has done. You are now under the control of your mind, a prisoner, to be more precise."

"But what about both of you?" Harry asked.

"We are but echoes of our real selves," James replied. "Something like who you met in the graveyard the summer before last."

"How do you know everything about the real world then, if you are in this illusion?" Harry asked, not really knowing what to make of all the information that he was getting.

"Because we are already dead in that illusion," Lily answered. "You see Harry, this is like an alternate universe, one in which Voldemort never did exist, one in which we never died, one in which you never had to live with Petunia. Tell me what your reaction would be if all these things were for real."

"I'd be the happiest person alive-" Harry replied, without needing to think twice.

"Precisely." James said, "You're in an illusion in which everything you ever wanted has come true. That's what your mind has done. You are now under the control of your mind."

"But what about both of you?" Harry asked.

"We are but echoes of our real selves," James replied, "Something like who you met in the graveyard the summer before last."

Harry leant back in his chair. Everything seemed so surreal. "I don't know what to think," he said finally.

"Then don't think about anything at the moment," Lily told him, "Finish up your breakfast. You'll have plenty of time to think then."

"But you said I don't need to eat," Harry said.

"Well you don't," James responded, "But your mind seems to think otherwise. And since at the moment, you haven't thought of everything, it's better to adhere to its will just for the time being." He shot a glance at Lily then and said, "Besides, the bacon isn't too badly burnt, is it?"

Lily gave her husband a mock glare and Harry grinned. He quickly finished up the rest of his breakfast.

After breakfast, Lily told Harry, "Go upstairs and tidy your room."

Once again, Harry objected, "Mum, I'll do it later. Besides, since this is an illusion, I don't think I really need to do that."

"Don't talk smart, Harry," Lily said, her lips forming a thin line, "Do as I say."

Harry grinned at her and nodded. He went up to his room and did as he was told. He took this opportunity also to look around his room. It was every bit like he had imagined his own room to be, his real room to be. Not too tidy, yet not overly disorganized. There was a desk near the window and Harry walked up to it. The fresh scent of flowers and the grass wafted in from the garden outside. Harry revelled in the aroma of the delicate flowers outside. It seemed so real. He couldn't bring himself to believe that something so concrete, so seemingly real, could ever be an illusion, as his parents had told him.

He sat down in the empty chair beside him and examined his desk. A few scraps of parchment were there, as were quills and inkpots. In the middle was a parchment which looked like an incomplete letter, in his own hand.

Harry picked it up and began reading the words which had no doubt come from his own heart, but of which he had no remembrance.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I know it's been only two days since I last wrote to you, but I'm missing you terribly. The weather here in Australia is hot and sunny, something you could never imagine back home at this time of the year. I can't believe that Christmas was only a week ago and I last saw you then. It seems a longer time to me._

_I'm still peeved at you from passing up the invitation to come with us down here. I can't wait to see you again, and every day reminds me more and more of how much I really love you._

_Aside from your absence which for me is a big void, everything else is fine. Mum and Dad are acting the usual. I wonder if we'll become anything remotely like them when we get married in the future…_

Harry read the letter and wondered if he could ever really be so eloquent. Maybe that was another effect of the absence of the Dursleys in his life. But he was glad that some things hadn't changed. He looked at two wizard photos kept framed on his desk. One showed Ron, Hermione and himself against the backdrop of the Hogwarts lake. They seemed to be about twelve in the picture. All three of them were merrily waving at him from the photo.

The second one was of him and Hermione kissing. It was obviously during a ball of some sort, considering their attire. They seemed to be older, probably fifteen. Harry kept staring at the picture in his hands for a long time. Everything was so wonderful in this world, so right, so ideal. If this was indeed an illusion, then it was an illusion far more wholesome and desirable than reality itself.

"I'm glad you've found someone who loves you so much," came Lily's voice from behind Harry. She had come into the room and seen Harry staring fondly at the photos of himself and his friends. Harry, who was deeply immersed in his thoughts, had not noticed.

Harry looked up and saw his mother standing behind him with her hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad too," he told her.

"Well, anyway," Lily said, "I came to remind you to start packing your things. The portkey will activate in two days and you'll not want to be late for that."

"Mum," Harry said, "You said everything is an illusion, right? Then, why can't I remember anything about this life? If my mind and my fantasies are dictating what I'm seeing here, why am I still in the dark about so many things? And how do Ron and Hermione exist in this world? They are not dead, are they?"

"These are a lot of questions, Harry. I hope you appreciate that," Lily said and took the chair opposite to Harry so that they were now face-to-face. "first of all, this is all based on your dreams and fantasies. This isn't the Realm of the Dead; it is the Realm of _your _thought. It contains all the people you've known or seen. They are all a part of your mind and thereby, also a part of your own self and this fantastic world."

"As to your first question," Lily continued, "No one's fantasies are so elaborate that they can encompass and create a whole new world, at least not for such time as they dwell in a person's sub-conscious self. You are no exception to this. You mind, too, is aware of this very fact. So, it has weaved this entire world so intricately that even if you know it is an illusion, you wouldn't want to leave it."

"Why does it not want me to leave?" Harry asked.

"There are many external forces at work here," Lily replied, "I don't know about half of them. For one thing, I believe that your mind is no longer in your control."

"Have you always used such heavy words?" Harry asked. "You sound a lot like Dumbledore – vague and wise."

"Do I?" Lily asked, giving a short laugh, "Well, your Dad tends to think in the same fashion, even though I'm nowhere as wise as Dumbledore. Anyway, I think my language stems a lot from the fact that I was an avid English literature buff, ever since I started reading the heavy-duty stuff contained in middle-age dramas." Harry smiled.

"Mum," He began uncertainly at first, "I've never known you really well…I've never really known how you were and what you did and…"

"I know," Lily said nodding, a tear trickling down her eyes, "You want to know about me."

"Yes and no," Harry replied, "Mum, please don't feel bad… What I mean is, I feel you within me, just as I feel Dad's presence. But it's just that….that….I've heard so much about Dad and what all he did with his friends back at Hogwarts…I've heard practically everything from Sirius and Remus. But…But I've never really heard the same about you, except the occasional mention of what you did, here and there…I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I couldn't possibly meet you and not ask this."

Lily sighed. She wiped away her tear and smiled softly at Harry. "There's nothing to feel bad about, Harry. I don't mind," she said, "This was a chance we all took when the prophecy was made, a chance taken to protect you. I understand how you feel at the moment. Ask what you want to know."

"Tell me about your life at Hogwarts first," Harry answered.

"It's a simple story till then, really," Lily said, "I was a simple Muggle, never aware of all the strange things that I seemed to be making happen all the time. Then, at eleven, I went to Hogwarts, made good friends, met your Dad and fell in love with him in our seventh year and that is it, really."

"What about before Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Ironical, isn't it?" Lily smiled.

"What's ironical?" Harry asked in turn.

"Nothing, just that you first asked me about life at Hogwarts and then about my childhood," Lily said, "I was younger than Petunia. We were just a simple family – happy, you might say, although Petunia and I never really could get along, I'm afraid. We were too different from each other, too much."

"What about after Hogwarts?"

"I became an Unspeakable," Lily answered, "It took me two years to be one. In the meantime, I also started working with Dumbledore for the Order."

"What about you and Dad?" Harry questioned.

"Well, we were a couple ever since our seventh year," Lily said, "After our careers took off, we married. We were twenty-two at that time. And you were born two years later."

"Mum, can I ask you something?" Harry said tentatively.

"Sure, Harry," Lily smiled.

"Sirius and Remus once told me that you began to like Dad since your last year at Hogwarts. Before that, they told me, you didn't like each other much," Harry said, slightly veiling his real source.

"Yes, it is true," Lily replied, "But you should have seen your father. I mean, he believed that he was the highest, the smartest and the most privileged being on the planet. His brilliance was one thing, but strutting about the school with his friends, and pulling off the most audacious pranks on everyone – students and teachers alike – was just arrogant and infantile."

"Then how did you get together?" Harry asked, getting more and more interested in his mother's words.

"Well, there are some things that you cannot suffer without getting closer to each other. In the summer of our seventh year, I was in Diagon alley. There was a Death Eater attack. Your father risked his life and saved a lot of people, including me."

"What happened then?" Harry prompted.

"I realized at that time that he _was _different," Lily continued, "But it wasn't only my heart and mind which told me he had changed. In fact, he _really had_ changed. It was like he had grown up, finally after an extended childhood he didn't want to let go of. When term started, I realized why and how much. I came to know that Death Eaters had stormed into your grandparents' home a couple of months ago. They had killed your grandparents, along with James' younger sister, Annabelle."

"Dad had a sister?" Harry exclaimed, surprised at the revelation.

"Yes, I knew Annabelle well, even though I didn't think much of James at first," Lily said, "Never believe in first impressions, that has always been my theory. She was three years younger than your Dad and was in Gryffindor with us. She was adventurous without being reckless, brilliant without being arrogant – a toned down and proper version of James. I couldn't believe when I hear she was dead.

"James changed a lot after that. Being full moon, he had gone to visit Remus at that time, and so was saved. It was as if he thought that he should have died with his family; he grew quieter, and more intense. I saw him very closely that year…since we were Head Boy and Girl. I still feel scared remembering his attitude. It was as if he did everything with the purpose of avenging his family's loss. I even heard Sirius say that he had become more distant from them."

"I didn't know…" Harry said, at a loss for words.

"Don't you see then how knowledge is a double-headed sword," Lily said, "It's not all smooth sailing, especially when it comes to life. There are joys; there are sorrows. All we can hope for is to outlast them both."

"So what happened then?" Harry inquired.

"Since we spent a lot of time with our school responsibilities," Lily resumed, "we used to see each other a lot. Slowly, that transcended into something deeper and more meaningful. Your Dad opened up slowly to me, and I got a glimpse of his real self, the person beneath the exterior. One thing gave way to another, and by the time we stopped to think about our relationship, we realized that we had fallen in love."

"Wow," Harry exclaimed softly, "That's something. Almost like a fairy tale."

"The ending wasn't," Lily countered, "Maybe for us, but not for you. Characters don't die in their own fairy tales. It is more like a story that hasn't seen its end. Only the end will then tell if it is a happy tale or an unhappy one."

"I don't get your meaning-" Harry said.

"Our story doesn't end with our death, Harry," Lily explained, "No story ever ends. It simply goes on and on; seeing seasons pass, years go by; only the characters change. Our story continues with you, Harry. We may be dead, but a part of us still lives in the mortal world in your form. You described it yourself when you said that you feel our presence within you. Many have told you that you look like James and have my eyes. This is because you are a part of us, Harry; you have sprung from us; and we keep on living through you. In that sense, our story continues."

"Mum, I'm glad I came here," Harry said after a moment's silence, "I'm glad that I came to know more about you, about who you were."

"Are you really, Harry?" Lily asked him, "You might think so at the moment, but it might not hold true a few days later, when you might not have us near you, like we are now. You need to realize Harry, that every parent is an enigma to his child. You can always know all there is to know about my life…and your Dad's…yet tomorrow, you'll have new questions to ask. That is the beauty and sanctity of the relationship between a parent and a child. Just like a parent can never ignore or hate his child, the child in turn, can never fully separate his identity from those of his parents. That's why we don't want you to stay in this delusional world, Harry…your Dad and I…We want you to wake up to reality once again. For every moment you spend here, you are losing a thousand moments in reality."

"The reality you want to send me to is dark, and bitter. I have everything I want here. All those whom I love are here," Harry said bitterly.

"But this isn't real," Lily objected, "There will always be an empty space in your heart – a void that will always be there until you return to reality. I agree, the reality is dark – darker than what most people face. But that shouldn't stop you from running from it. You have got to show courage in the face of harsh circumstances."

"Why must it always be _I _who should show courage? Why can't it be anyone else?" Harry questioned.

"You are not the only one in the world, Harry," Lily said, "who has lost his loved once. Yes, the responsibilities on you are much greater, but it is because you have in you, the courage to face them. You have been courageous this far; don't abandon it now. Besides, there are people who make reality worth living for you, who make you happy – Hermione, Ron, your friends – all of them are _there_."

"They are here as well," Harry protested, getting up and walking over to the window. The summer sun was shining brightly outside and an air of calm weaved itself around the house.

"But they aren't real," Lily said. She walked over to Harry and placed her soothing touch on his shoulder. Harry was well taller than her and he had to reach out to do so, but it calmed him down nevertheless. She continued, "Harry, I know it is difficult to let go of this, especially when you've yearned for this all your life. But you must realize that your destiny lies in the real world and not in this illusion. You must attempt to fulfil your destiny, Harry. It is what you were meant to do." Harry remained quiet and motionless. Lily continued, tears sparkling in her eyes, so like the ones she gave to her son, "Give me a reason, Harry…to believe that the sacrifice your Dad and I made for you…was just. Give me a reason to believe that our decision was right…Give me a reason to believe that our faith in you, even if you were so young then, and our hopes for you…were not unfounded."

It was all Harry could take without breaking down. He said, placing his hands on the window-sill, "I wish I had never been marked. I wish it had never been me. Why _was _I chosen, Mum?"

Lily replied, "You can be rest assured that it was because of some force that you possess, some quality that you have. Believe me Harry, when I say that you would never have been entrusted this destiny unless you had the power within you to fulfil it."

"Dumbledore told me the same once," Harry remarked.

"He is a wise man and an honourable one too," Lily said, "Just like you are. You've grown into a fine, young man, Harry. And I cannot tell you enough how proud James and I, are of you. You've really made us proud, Harry. Even if we had the chance to bring you up ourselves, we would have wanted you to be as strong as you are now."

But Harry said, "I don't feel strong, Mum."

Lily turned Harry around to face her. It was difficult, considering that Harry was almost six inches taller than her five foot four frame, but she did it. She looked up at her son's face and saw there, a lingering self-doubt. She spoke gently to him, I know it doesn't feel so, but you do have the strength. You only need to look into your own mind and soul to be able to access it…I want you to promise me Harry, that you will find a way out of this illusion and go back to face your destiny."

Harry remained silent. Lily put forward her palm and said, "Promise me, Harry."

Finally, Harry raised his own hand, and placed it into his mother's. "I promise," he said softly.

"And I, in turn, promise you to help you out of here," Lily said, smiling at him.

"Don't count me out then," came James' voice from across the room. He strode up to them and placed his hand on top of Harry's.

"How long have you been listening?" Lily asked him.

"As long as I needed to," James replied. "By the way, do you still think I'm arrogant and thick-headed?"

"Stop it, James," Lily said, "Pay attention to your age, at least."

James grinned at her. Then he turned to Harry and said, "Your mother spoke truly, Harry. We're very proud of who you've become. We really are!"

"Thanks Dad!" was all Harry could say before the three of them shared a group hug. Once again, Harry felt a pang of regret, thinking about the possibilities that might have materialized, had he grown up with his parents.

Author's Note:

Massive delay, wasn't it? But what can I do? I fell ill, and to my utter disbelief and extreme discomfort, the fever has still not gone away after about twenty days. God knows what's happening. I had to give my finals in the midst of all that, would you believe? Still, I hope to get a pretty good result.

Anyways, back to the fic. During the last three weeks, the fic crossed 30,000 hits. So, thanks all of you.

It was actually, on account of the long delay, that I decided to post this. Originally, I had planned to write more after this in this chapter, but I guess that will have to wait. I've tried my best to portray Harry's mental state at all the happenings. Hope you think they are well-placed and well-written.

Lastly (for now), about my other fic, Heir of Lord Voldemort : The Choice, I'm yet to start working on the next chapter. Now now, no need to panic. I'll have it out in five days at the most.

So long then, enjoy reading. And before leaving, please review. It encourages me no end.


	20. Back Where He Belongs

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Back Where He Belongs**

Harry stood in the centre of the room and scanned his peripheries. It was his room…in his home. Once again, everything was as he would have liked it to be, just like his room back in the Potter's summer home in Australia. Harry had found out more about that home the day before, i.e., the day when they had begun their long, tiring journey back to England by airplane.

Apparently, it was at Lily's insistence that they were flying home instead of simply taking a trans-continental portkey or using any other similar magical means of transport. It was on that fight that James informed Harry that he had visited the same house back in Australia as a baby…

"We bought it, your mother and I," James had informed him, "just before your birth. In fact, we lived there for quite some time to elude Voldemort."

"Then why did we go back to England?" Harry had asked.

"Distances only delay the inevitable," James had answered. "We barely escaped an attack on the house there. That's when we came back to England and started thinking about the Fidelius charm. Clearly, you remembered something about the house, albeit at the back of your mind."

The flight was very comfortable. It was a British Airways jet, resembling those which Harry remembered seeing on the Dursley's television. It was also the first time that he had flown in an airplane in his life (albeit in an illusion). Still, Harry didn't imagine it to be much different in reality. He decided that he preferred his own Firebolt to the airplane any day. The calm, quiet, air-conditioned confines of the aircraft made for a very comfortable journey but it lacked the excitement, the energy, the thrills and the high adrenaline rush that soaring high on a broomstick brought about.

After finally reaching the house where they lived, Harry had spent the first few minutes scanning his house – no, his home. He found everything to his utmost liking, a thing he marked sub-consciously in his mind again. It was a proper home filled with warmth, cosiness and love, and completely opposite to the snobbish cleanliness and spotlessness of Number 4, Privet Drive. Harry had almost felt his jetlag being taken away by the warmth of his 'home'.

Now, twenty-four hours hence, he was in his bedroom, lying down on bed, looking up at the ceiling. It was later afternoon and the rays of the setting sun illuminated the ceiling and painted it a most dazzlingly bright and brilliant red – a shade that danced merrily and willingly where it fell, creating the illusion of a single hue, swallowing all colours and imparting its own feature to those fading colours.

Harry got up and walked over to his 'work-desk'. He scanned the table and saw there among other things, a photo album; the same one Hagrid had given him. Never wondering once how it came by there, even though this world was markedly different to the one he lived in, Harry picked it up and started leafing through it. The old photos were there still, but new ones had been added towards the end – photos that spoke of Harry's life in this universe – his journey from infancy to youth under the watchful and caring guidance of his parents.

He finished looking through the album and found that twilight had fallen. Yet Harry made no move to switch on the light or the like. He didn't want to drive the darkness away for now. At the moment, with the non-existence of Voldemort, it didn't seem so threatening and forbidding. On the contrary, it seemed like the ideal companion for introspective thoughts.

Harry had often wondered about how his life might have been had his parents lived, if he had lived in their loving care. But now that he had his wish, albeit in an illusion, he didn't know what to think. He _was _happy, but there was still an empty space in his heart, something conspicuously related to what Lily had told him. It spoke of something missing. It spoke of something not being right. It spoke of everything being unreal. The thought that reality could never be so perfect constantly nagged and haunted him.

Harry took up the photo album again and opened it, as he had countless number of times before. He didn't go to the more recent photos that existed in this world. He lingered only on the ones he knew of and had earlier seen. All the happy faces of the people in those photos – Sirius, his parents and so many other nameless people – stared back at him. But Harry found no solace in those photos, no comfort. Come to think of it, he didn't know now if the fact that his parents were dead affected him. It wasn't that he didn't love them anymore. It wasn't that he was not elated at having met them in flesh and blood. It wasn't as if he wasn't happy knowing more about them. But it was again like what his mother had told him it would be. His parents were an enigma he never could crack.

Over the years, as Harry had grown more and more accustomed (and proud) to being called a living image of his father. He also had felt himself becoming increasingly inclined towards fulfilling that assessment. That desire had subsided on seeing his father with Snape last year, but it had never fully gone away. But now that he had met James, he realized that there was no way he could be like him. He was different from him, subtly different. He might be a Potter as well, but he also had Lily's blood flowing through his veins. After having met both of them now, Harry was beginning to realize that his parents were individuals as well, not just his parents. He contained them within himself, but making himself an exact image of them wasn't what they would ever have wanted.

Today, Harry also knew all about how his parents died. He had seen everything. Yet, he felt so very empty. There was grief, yes, but it was more understated. What was more palpable was a sense of questioning. The universal question 'why?' constantly bugged him. He wanted to know the reasons for why the past panned out so, and only then would he grieve for the ones he loves, yet who he never knew.

Harry now felt another presence in the room. He looked across to the doorway to see his parents standing there, looking at him. On seeing him divert his attention towards themselves, they entered the room and walked across to Harry. Lily sat at the foot of the bed while James took a nearby chair.

Everyone remained silent for a while, as if each person was willing the others to break the silence. Finally, Harry spoke, "I've been thinking. I want to go back."

Both James and Lily nodded grimly. Lily, he noticed, had tears in her eyes, even though she was trying her best to blink them back. She told him, "That is a very wise decision."

"Dumbledore once told me," Harry said, "when I was looking into the Mirror of Erised and trying to lose myself in both of your images, that it does not do to dwell in dreams. I understand what he meant by that now. But before trying to leave, I've only got one question for you. Why did you choose to die?"

"I don't know," James replied. "But I couldn't stay there and watch you getting marked or killed in front of my own eyes. I promised myself when I heard of the prophecy that I would protect you as long as I lived. Just watching you and holding you in my arms, just loving you, gave me the courage to do precisely that."

"Voldemort told me there was no need for you to die," Harry said turning to his mother. "Why then?"

"You'll realize yourself, Harry, when you become a parent," Lily said. "Someday you'll realize yourself. On that day, at that moment, you'll understand why."

"I don't see that moment coming," Harry said simply.

"Don't give yourself less credit than you deserve, Harry," Lily said.

"But I…I just don't see any hope in this battle," Harry countered.

"Do you know Harry what Remus' reaction was when we told him about our discovery of his fear of the moon?" James asked. "He told us that there was no hope for his cure. He told us to stop being his friends now that the truth was out, lest he hurt us. He told us that he was doomed to lead a life of loneliness and being regarded as an outcast. Do you know what we told him?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't raise his eyes to meet James'.

"We said, as I am saying the same thing to you now," James spoke, with a tinge of nostalgia in his voice, "There is always hope."

"I saw him duel you, just before you…just before you…" Harry could not bring himself to say the word 'died'. "You could not face up to him. How can you expect me to do that?"

"Because you're not like me," James answered. "You are stronger, more powerful, and more humble. Even at your age, you aren't a rash person."

"I don't think Sirius would agree on that," Harry said grimly, trying to hold the overpowering flow of emotions that he was feeling behind the dams that he had erected within his mind. Even then, the waters threatened to breach the divide and flow across.

"Sirius' loss was a loss to everyone who knew him," James said. "I won't try to comfort you on that, because I'm not the right person to do that. You will always miss Sirius, but is that a reason to wallow in self-pity?"

""I feel really guilty," Harry said finally after a silence, "I haven't thought about Sirius for a long time, what with all that's been going on – with one thing following another. It seems an insult to his memory that his godson doesn't remember him."

"You're talking Harry," James told him, "as if you never met Sirius. Take a breather, Harry. Just go easy on yourself. I've some direct contacts up there (he jabbed his finger towards the ceiling, indicating the heavens) and I know for sure that Sirius is not too happy seeing you like this." He winked his eyes at Harry as he lifted his head to take a look at James.

Harry offered him a watery sort of a smile.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, "I know I shouldn't have said all this. But it's just that I miss him so much. And there are so many questions that I wanted answers to, but were left unanswered after he died. Everywhere, everything seems to hold his memory. I couldn't…" He shook his head again as he broke off.

"Then remember those things and why they're associated with Sirius," Lily said. "That's the only way you can honour Sirius' memory and celebrate his life."

"You know," Harry said giving a brighter smile this time, "I wonder if you're right. Hermione, Dumbledore…they've always given me advice I didn't like and ultimately proved to be right. I wonder if that isn't the case with you."

"There you go," James said. "That's much better." Harry nodded.

"Sleep now, Harry," Lily told him. "You never know what the morning might bring. Sleep all your doubts away, for tomorrow you must wake to a new dawn, a dawn of hope and justice."

"No," Harry said, "not yet. I just want to ask Dad one more thing. I may not be able to ask it again. Why did you hate Snape so much?"

"Why do you hate Draco Malfoy so much, Harry?" James asked in return.

"Malfoy is different. He is a git and a Death Eater to boot," Harry said. "But Snape is…well…he is a bit different from Malfoy. For one, he's working for us. He's on our side."

"I don't think it is much different," James mused, "There are more similarities in both the cases than you know, Harry. Still, as far as my mutual loathing of Snape is concerned, I'm not too proud of that. I must admit that he is a slimy git and a foul person on the whole, but it didn't warrant that sort of a treatment."

"Why don't you tell him the truth, James?" Lily said.

"No," James said looking at Lily disapprovingly.

"Come on, it's not going to hurt. He's big enough to know." Lily argued. "And anyway, it was all a comedy of misconceptions, wasn't it?"

James still didn't look too intent on telling Harry whatever Lily was asking him to tell. So, Lily herself took up the onus and told Harry, "Your dad always hated Snape, but it positively turned into loathing from our third year."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because he was a sneaky, slimy git who hung around the worst sort of pure-blood maniacs and _Slytherin royalty_ I've ever seen and when not doing that, he always used to sneak around us, trying to get us caught for trouble."

"And because," Lily chimed in as soon as James made it apparent that he wasn't going to continue, "he entertained the thought from third to sixth years that Snape loved me and that I reciprocated his feelings."

"What?" Harry almost choked. "He thought Snape loved you. That's abominable."

"It is," Lily agreed. "That's what I told him after he spoke about what he thought. Evidently, that was why his loathing of Snape reached its crest during sixth year."

"Well, I was a teenager then, for heaven's sake," James said, looking sheepish and trying to defend himself at the same time. "You do get the weirdest of thoughts and notions at that age."

"I don't." Harry said simply.

"That's because your friends are sensible, and aren't only concerned with how to pull off the next big prank on anyone and everyone imaginable. They even managed to pull off one on Dumbledore during our sixth year." Lily told Harry.

"What?" Harry exclaimed. He couldn't imagine a scene where Dumbledore suddenly was hung upside down from the ceiling or a statue or a suit of armour was dropped on top of his head.

"That was our finest moment," James proclaimed emphatically. "The last bow of the Marauders."

"The last bow?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah," James replied. "Your mum and I discovered our feelings for each other immediately after that. It was she who caught us in the act of pranking on Dumbledore before the whole Great Hall. Lucky to say, I worked my charm and prevented her from telling on us."

"You worked your charm?" Lily said, rolling her eyes. "I just did not want my new-found boyfriend to be portrayed as a rule-breaker, although everyone knew he was precisely that." She whispered conspiratorially to Harry, "Couldn't mess with my chances of being appointed Head Girl, could I? Anyway, I made him promise after that not to do his audacious stuff again."

Harry grinned, but his face became serious again when he asked, "Where does Snape figure in all this?"

"After all this happened, I realized that my initial reason for loathing Snape was unfounded." James answered. "Needless to say, I'd found more and stronger reasons to hate him till them. We never declared truce, never."

"Are you proud of that?" Harry asked, his eyes fixed upon his father's, trying to wrest an answer, something that could ease his mind as to the nature of what he had seen in Snape's pensieve.

"No," James said, "I think I might have over-reacted. But then, I was young, and had not a care in the world."

"You also happened to be a big-headed prat whose boots were too big for his own feet," Lily suggested brightly.

"Right." James nodded, agreeing.

"But that doesn't excuse you, Dad," Harry said. James looked most uncomfortable at this.

But it was now Lily who said, "Look Harry, your Dad isn't proud of what he did. But you have to realize that every person makes mistakes in his life. Everyone. Your Dad, I and even you…we aren't exceptions to this rule. But if we let the past interfere with our present and future, we'd end up making the same mistakes again and again. Would that be wise?"

"Snape hasn't forgotten his end of the past," Harry argued.

But James seemed to regain a bit of his swagger as he said, "Yeah, but that's why Snape is the greasy-haired, lousy slimeball that he is."

"James!" Lily gave her husband a glare.

But Harry simply grinned and said, "I guess you're right after all."

"Okay, now that it's settled," Lily said, "I'd advise to turn in for the night. We'll see what tomorrow may bring."

"Good night." Harry said, as he watched his parents exit his room and close the door behind him.

"And now what I need," Harry said to himself, "is to find a way to get out of here."

Even as thoughts of leaving the delusional world took root and grew in Harry's mind, he found himself drifting off, as if he was slowly sinking into a state of slumber.

_He saw Hermione sitting by him, patiently reading something. Time and time again, her eyes left the text to take a sad glance in his own direction. Harry could feel the melancholy in her eyes and the fear behind the veil of sadness, every time his eyes made contact with hers. Yet, it seemed as though she wasn't aware of his gaze, of his sight._

_Harry himself seemed to be lying down, as it felt to him from the way he was oriented. There was the light of candles above him, floating in mid-air. He looked past them and saw the ceiling. He knew that ceiling, the criss-crossing cavernous architecture of ornately carved beams. It was the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts – his cognizance of it a consequence of his innumerable trips to this wing of Hogwarts castle._

_His gaze drifted back to Hermione. She'd now abandoned the book and was again looking at him. She took his hand into her own and Harry felt a calm pervade him at that touch. He so desperately wanted to touch her… to squeeze her hand back…to re-assure her and take away her fears, even though he himself wasn't aware of what they were. But he somehow couldn't bring himself to make that movement of a single spasm of his body. He was all paralysed, fixed in a particular place. He could move neither limb nor lid._

Suddenly, the vision faded, Harry's eyes flew open and he returned to his own delusional state. He got up hurriedly only to find that there was no Hermione, no Hospital wing, nothing whatsoever. It was just the room he supposed he should call his own. His earlier thoughts were now pushed to a remote corner of his mind and the room looked bare, lifeless and unwelcoming.

All at once, as if an invisible barrier had been breached, as if the very foundation stone of the building had been shaken and cast down, the ground began to shake and the entire room, the entire house seemed to collapse around Harry. The structure of beams and columns came crashing sown heavily. Harry watched silently as the fictitious walls of his self-imposed illusion collapsed around him. Everything faded and all Harry remembered was falling into a great, deep, dark abyss from where there was no return.

"Is he awake yet? Are you sure he moved?" A voice broke into Harry's thoughts as he regained his consciousness.

"I'm sure, Ron," another voice spoke, "I saw him move. He was trying to say something."

Harry's mind slowly got back to its normal state of functioning. He realized that he knew those voices. Yes, he knew them well. His eyes fluttered open, only to see the concerned faces of Ron, Hermione, Neville and Madam Pomfrey hovering over him.

But that was pretty much the only thing he glimpsed since his sight was obscured by a multitude of bushy, brown hair as Hermione shrieked in joy and threw herself on her prostrate form.

"Hermione! Let him breathe for god's sake!" Ron told her strongly, even as Madam Pomfrey shrieked, "Miss Granger! Disturbing a patient like that! I thought you had more sense!"

Hermione seemed to realize what she had just done and she detached herself from Harry slowly, even as she looked considerably abashed. As she stood up, Harry seemed to be pained by something on the right side and he winced visibly.

Madam Pomfrey immediately noticed this and she rushed over to Harry's side to give him a thorough check-up. She found that Harry was physically quite okay, except for a few bruises here and there and an especially large one on the right side of his torso. Other than that, he seemed to be fine, except for a palpable weakness in his manner.

As Madam Pomfrey did her work, Harry said to Hermione, "Thanks for the welcome, Hermione!"

Hermione looked apologetic while Ron merely guffawed at the pronouncement. He said, "She's completely mental, Harry, she is!"

"Mr Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey turned to Ron and chided. "This is a Hospital Wing, not your Quidditch Pitch! If neither you nor Miss Granger can control yourselves, I suggest you leave immediately."

"No, Madam Pomfrey," Harry protested. These were the first words that he spoke since he opened his eyes. "Let them stay." Ron and Hermione beamed at him. However, the only thing that Harry noticed was that the concern reflected in Hermione's eyes seemed to have lessened considerably.

As Madam Pomfrey asked Harry to turn to the other side, he caught Neville's eyes. Neville was just sitting there quietly. Upon seeing Harry, he gave him a reassuring smile, and Harry smiled back at him. It seemed that Neville's understated reaction lent some sanity that offset Ron and Hermione's excited reactions.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey was done. She told Neville as if she thought that the other two healthy students in the room weren't in a state to follow her instructions, "Keep a watch on Mr Potter here, Mr Longbottom. I shall go and inform the Headmaster about him."

Neville nodded while Madam Pomfrey bustled out of the room and out of the Hospital Wing doors which she took care to shut behind her.

Even though Harry felt weak, his mind didn't seem to have been addled unnecessarily. On the contrary, it seemed to him that his mind had become sharper, more capable of focus and concentration than before. It struck him really odd that Madam Pomfrey should leave the Hospital Wing to just inform Dumbledore, at a time when she had a patient to take care of. He wondered why she had not used the Floo to get a hold of Dumbledore. Something was going on. He knew it. It was as if he could smell it.

But Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione sitting on the side of his bed and asking him, "How are you feeling, Harry?" She took his hand into her own and gave it a squeeze. Harry was relieved that Hermione was the first one to ask her a question here. She knew him the best and was sensible enough to bring up any question about what he had done for all these days later. Ron, he knew, had he asked the first question, would definitely have plunged headlong into the very question he didn't want to answer.

Yes, Harry knew he'd been unconscious and in the Hospital Wing for some time now. How he knew, he had no idea, but even the looks on his friends' faces attested to the fact that his feeling was true.

"How long have I been unconscious?" Harry asked to all three of them in general.

"Two months," Ron said.

"We thought we had lost you," Neville said in a low voice, "But Dumbledore kept us going on and hoping. He told us that you would return after your work was complete."

Harry nodded. He had some problem remembering things right now, so he let them be. It was as if his mind had been shaken up completely and all its contents shuffled up, down, left and right in any direction imaginable. He didn't have any problem processing his thoughts. It was his memory that was giving him problems_. Maybe I've amnesia_, he thought. _Will have to talk to Dumbledore about all this._

"How are you feeling Harry?" Hermione asked still looking slightly worried.

"Okay, I guess," Harry said, trying to sit up against the headboard. "Just a bit sore on the right side."

"You _are_ going to be okay, aren't you?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "I hope so," he said.

By this time, Madam Pomfrey came in and told Harry's friends, "The Headmaster has asked all of you to depart now to Gryffindor tower, since Mr Potter seems to have woken up all right and he needs his rest tonight. The Headmaster would like to talk to you in his office though, before you return."

"But…" Hermione opened her mouth to argue otherwise, but Madam Pomfrey was not one to listen.

She said, "I already gave you more liberty at the Headmaster's request, by allowing to stay here all these nights. Now go."

Hermione looked defeated. But she knelt down and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Good night, Harry," she said.

"Good night, Harry," Neville said as well.

Ron was also about to say the same and return, but Harry stopped him. "Ron," Harry said, "A word, mate."

"Mr Potter, you need your rest." Madam Pomfrey looked scandalous that her order should be defied within her hospital wing.

"Please, Madam Pomfrey," Harry pleaded his case. "It won't be long, I promise. I just want to talk privately with Ron."

Hermione looked questioningly at them but didn't say anything. She and Neville left the ward while Ron stayed back.

Harry said, "Ron, I wanted to ask you how Hermione has been. She isn't looking too good."

Ron gave a low whistle and replied, "Not too good. Well Harry, you should have seen her. She has been a complete wreck. She hasn't been eating anything. She has been crying all the time. And she has been working herself harder than ever. One day, she just collapsed in the Common room. Fainted. She was here in the Hospital Wing for a week and Madam Pomfrey advised her to take it easy. But she has been just over-working herself. If she doesn't stop, I will bet she would have just gone mad soon if you hadn't come back today. No Harry, she has been hit very badly by all this. You will have to make it up to her."

"I will, I promise," Harry said as they made to walk out of the classroom. He stopped suddenly and putting his hand on Ron's shoulder, said, "Ron, thanks mate. Thanks for telling me what I wanted to know."

Ron grinned at him. "Anytime mate, anytime." He said, but then his grin faded and he said, "Are you sure you are okay, Harry? You like you've been crushed under a mountain or something."

"No," Harry said, "Now that I'm here, I think I'll be alright."

"What happened, mate?" Ron whispered, as if it were a question he didn't dare to ask. "What really happened to you? I've never heard of someone just go off into a deep coma like that and just wake up after two months."

"I don't know what happened," Harry said. "I don't remember."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "I don't know how to say this," Harry said. "Maybe it's the weakness or something else. I think I could do with some rest right now."

Ron nodded and said, "Good night, mate! It's good to have to back!"

"Thanks Ron," Harry said. "I'm glad to be back."

Harry looked to his side. He had heard a movement there and more importantly, he'd sensed a presence. Immediately wary, he put on his glasses from beside his bedside table and put them on, trying to find a clear light that could pierce the darkness.

It was a couple of hours past midnight. Harry had tried to sleep but couldn't do so. His mind was too full of thoughts. He was too confused. Every time he tried to jog his memory of what had happened during the last two months, his thoughts became muddled and he became increasingly frustrated.

Dumbledore had come down to meet Harry after his friends had left. Harry still remembered that conversation.

_"How are you feeling, Harry?" Dumbledore had asked._

_"All right, I guess," Harry replied. "Just a little sore."_

_"Anything else?" The old wizard asked, his eyes seemingly piercing Harry's very soul._

_"No…" Harry had started, "Actually yes. It's my memory. I can't seem to remember anything from the past two months. I seem to know some things that I didn't know I knew, but every time I try to remember what happened after the Hogsmeade attack, my mind just becomes blank."_

_Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "I wouldn't worry about it if I were you," he had said. "You deserve a rest now. Try to go easy on yourself. You'll soon find that it will speed your recovery."_

_"But what about trying to remember?" Harry had asked. "You don't believe that I can go around everywhere not knowing what I might have been up to for the last two months, do you?"_

_"Patience, Harry," Dumbledore had advised. "You'll remember everything. Slowly but surely. Just don't try to ask too much of yourself. You seem to have undergone the most tiring and the most stringent of experiences. I'd advise you to rest and try to regain your lost energy before you decide to return to the school's daily activities. I daresay you'll need all the energy you can muster."_

_"Where is my wand?" Harry had asked. He'd found he was not in possession of his wand ever since he woke up._

_"It's safe," Dumbledore had answered, "and in my possession. It's my sincere belief that you should not use magic for the next week or so, neither should any magic be used upon you. Your magical reserves are at an all time low at this point of time and I don't want you to suffer from any possible ill-effects of using magic. As it is, in your condition, it becomes too tiring to cast even the simplest levitating spell. Do you understand?"_

_Harry had just nodded. Dumbledore had said, "Then I'll leave you now. We'll talk later." And with that he'd departed from the Hospital Wing, leaving Harry more unsatisfied than ever._

He hadn't been able to rest as Dumbledore had suggested he should. It was too cumbersome. He felt like there was an invisible barrier within his mind that blocked anything and everything he tried to do. His mind was working overtime, thinking, processing, never once ceasing its actions. It had never been so active before, and Harry didn't quite know how to deal with it.

All of a sudden before his very eyes, he saw Hermione appear out of thin air. She had his own Invisibility Cloak in her hand.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "You gave me a big fright!"

"Sorry Harry," she said, looking contrite. "I just wanted to see you. I took the Invisibility Cloak from your dorm. I'll return it to you."

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Harry said, "I don't think there is anything I own which I'll not want to share with you, except of course the burden of the prophecy and enmity with the Dark Lord."

Hermione looked stricken at this mere jest. "Harry, this is not funny," she said, "I don't like what you said."

"Sorry then," Harry said sincerely. "Anyway, help me here will you. If I lie anymore, I think I'll go mad seeing only this ceiling."

Hermione helped prop Harry against the pillows so that he was now sitting upright on the bed against the headboard. She herself took a seat beside him.

"So, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?" Harry asked her.

"I told you I came to see you," Hermione answered. "But I thought you'd be asleep."

"So did I," Harry said, "I mean, you should be in your dorm right now. If anyone catches you…"

"Very well," Hermione said and got up, "I'll go then if you do not want me to disturb you."

As she turned around to go, Harry grabbed her by the hand and said, "I didn't mean I don't want you here. Sit down please, Hermione. I missed you so much that I can't be near you enough."

Hermione sat back down, and gently took hold of her hand. Harry simply looked at her.

"You've changed, Harry. Yes, you have changed quite a bit," Hermione told him, sighing as she said so.

"No, I haven't. I am still the old Harry Potter who is madly in love with his best friend and the cleverest witch around – Hermione Granger. So you see nothing has changed," Harry protested.

"It's the way you are behaving, Harry. It's the way you are taming your temper. Already you would have been frustrated at no one telling you about all the news and everything else. But you aren't showing even a small bit of that trait. It's the way you are caring about me. No Harry you've obviously changed, whatever you say."

"But I still care about you, I still love you."

"I am not saying that you don't. It's just that you are well, how should I put this? It seems you have undoubtedly gained some powers… I feel it in your gaze. I feel in your smile."

"If I did," Harry said, "I don't remember a thing."

"Where have you been, Harry?" Hermione asked. "And don't give me that shit about being here in the Hospital Wing! I know better than that. Where did your mind wander all this while?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "As I said, I don't remember a thing. I feel like I've got this barrier inside of my mind that is preventing me from accessing my own memories."

"How?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think we should talk about me right now," Harry said. "Dumbledore told me not to think about it. He said that everything would sort itself out."

Hermione nodded. She trusted Dumbledore, as she trusted Harry. There would be a reason as to why the old Headmaster had given Harry that particular advice. She looked at her boyfriend – the one she loved. There seemed to her, to be a light around him, an aura. It was this aura that sparked off her curiosity.

Harry looked at her closely as they stood near each other. Two months of sorrow and unparalleled hard work had undoubtedly taken a toll on her. But she still looked incredibly beautiful to him. Harry shuddered at the thought of how sexy she looked.

As they looked at each other, Harry felt the sense of longing growing within him. He desperately wanted to say something to her and so his mouth formed a few words for him. "Hermione, Ron told me that you haven't been all that well."

"No, believe me, I've been fine. Don't worry about me." She replied. But she was also pleased that he had asked about her even though it wasn't only about a few hours since he had woken up.

"You should learn to take care of yourself, you know, even though I might always be around. You really should. You should show the world that you are Hermione Granger, not just Harry Potter's girlfriend and love interest."

"You are becoming self-conceited, you know that Harry Potter," Hermione said as she playfully nudged him in the ribs. However, her laughter turned to self-reproach when she saw Harry wincing at the nudge.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry," she said over and over again, tears welling up in her eyes.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said. "I'm just a little bit sore. That's all."

"I knew you always would be extraordinary, Harry," Hermione said. "what with your history, the prophecy and all that. And I had imagined that you would stop thinking about me or our friends after that. You would stop taking interest in these matters and would deem them too trivial. A part of me feared that such a happening would take you away from me, but here you are, having already reached that stage and yet you still care for me."

"But that is a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, and that is why I fear it. I hate this but I think I am getting too much dependent on you. Your absence really crushed me, Harry. And this was only for two months. I just hate to think what would have happen if we cannot be together. I am scared of this, Harry."

"Hermione, look at me," he said and she looked into those emerald green eyes that she had come to adore. The very effect of looking straight at them was intoxicating. Harry continued, "Hermione, I don't know how this is going to end. I don't know if I am going to survive. But I promise you one thing that I will always be there for you, to help you, to protect you, to comfort you and to make you smile. I promise you that you can always count on me to be there by your side in all times. And I promise you all this because I love you. I have always loved you and I promise you that I will always love you, not only in this life, but also in death and even beyond that."

Harry saw tears glistening in Hermione's eyes as he listened to him saying all these wonderful things. Suddenly she could take it no more. She broke down and began crying into Harry's chest saying, "Oh Harry! I am sorry."

"You needn't be, Hermione," Harry consoled her. "I understand how you are feeling. You don't need to feel sorry."

With that Harry drew her near him. She was wearing an almost see-through pink nightdress that clung to her body in all the right places and made her look extremely seductive. It was clear that she intended to either seduce him or that she had decided to visit him in the greatest hurry. Harry bet on the latter even though he would have liked the first option equally. Harry could barely contain his longing as he saw her in that form. To him, she was a goddess, whom he had to protect, nurture and love. He grinned sheepishly at her and took her soft hands gently into his own. He began kissing her, first softly but then more passionately. She responded and soon, their lips were locked together as one. Their bodies sent waves as their lips made contact. They made low, moaning sounds full of pleasure as they experienced each other for the first time in days.

Suddenly, Harry felt another sharp stab of pain in his right side. This brought him to his senses. Just before they lost control, Harry pulled back and said, "Hermione, we need to stop here. As much as I love you, I don't think we can continue. I don't think we are ready yet. Besides, I don't think I'm quite in shape."

Hermione giggled. She looked slightly disappointed but she understood. She wanted him and he wanted her. It had been clear from the very first time when they had confessed their love to each other. It had been their decision to refrain from doing anything that they might have had to regret later on and it was necessary that they stick to that. They pulled away from each other and Hermione got up.

"Don't go," Harry said, "Stay her tonight. The whole night."

Hermione said softly, "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry nodded and said, "I just need some rest."

Hermione seemed to understand. She used her wand to enlarge the bed slightly and snuggled in close to Harry, making sure to hold him on his pain-free side. He still clutched her hand tightly, as if he was afraid to let her go.

She lay down beside him and asked, "Harry, do you need something?"

He did not reply at once but after some time, said, "I want to rest, Hermione. I want to drop down and sleep like I once might have without dreams to haunt me and without potions to help me be peaceful. I want to rest normally once, Hermione."

As he said so, a tear trickled down his cheek and Hermione felt her heart reach out to her boyfriend. She pulled him closer to herself and said gently, "Sleep Harry. I _am_ here. I won't let anything happen."

Her words seemed to calm him down and he soon settled into a deep dreamless slumber, feeling so protected for the first time in years. He slept peacefully that night, nestled against her warm body. It was the first time he had slept so peacefully since his fourth year.

Author's Note:

So, there you have it, the next chapter. I hope you like it. There are a lot of questions raised in this chapter, of which more than a few will be answered in the next one entitled 'The Ancient Secret of War'.

On another parallel track, I've started my own fanfiction group on yahoo. It's an open invitation to anyone and everyone if they want to join. It's named mordorianarmy. The URL is http/groups. thanks for reading. Bye for now.


	21. The Ancient Secret of War

Thanks to Renzo for the help with the update

**Chapter Twenty**

**The Ancient Secret of War**

Harry awoke early the next day to find that Hermione was still curled up by his side. He watched her for a few moments, thinking how wonderful and innocent she was when asleep. But he hadn't forgotten his sense, and woke her up gently.

"Hermione," he said softly into her ear, "Wake up."

She woke up and smiled at Harry, "I was having a most wonderful dream."

"Was it something to do with the both of us?" Harry said.

"It might have been," was her reply.

Harry grinned at her. Finally, he said, "You must go back now. Madam Pomfrey will enter any moment."

As if precisely on cue, they heard the door on the far side of the hospital wing open, and they heard Madam Pomfrey come in. Fortunately, Hermione had managed to cover herself with the Invisibility Cloak in time.

"Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey said on seeing him awake, "who were you talking to? I thought I heard voices."

Harry groaned. Madam Pomfrey had the ears of a fox and the eyes of a hawk. "No one," he said shifting uncomfortably from his prostrate position. "Just myself."

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?" she asked.

Harry nodded and tried using his hands to prop himself up into a sitting position.

"Mr Potter, what do you think you're doing?" Madam Pomfrey shouted as soon as she saw him. "You're supposed to only lie, not even sit properly. Your wounds haven't healed properly as yet."

"I got bored lying there," Harry said. "Besides I feel much better and much fresher today."

Madam Pomfrey did not look too convinced but she let the matter be. She retired to her office for some time to do whatever important work she had.

As soon as she had gone, the still invisible Hermione gave him a short chaste kiss on the lips and saying '_See you soon'_ went out of the Hospital wing.

However, even before a couple of minutes had passed, Harry saw a shadow by his bed. It was Dumbledore.

"Professor?" Harry exclaimed in surprise. "I did not see you arriving."

"Obviously," Dumbledore twinkled. "I didn't want to disturb yourself and Miss Granger."

Harry blushed a bright shade of red at this. "I…we…we were just…" he stuttered.

"No need to be embarrassed, Harry," Dumbledore said, "It's love after all. I still remember my first love when I was here at Hogwarts. Ah! The feeling of young love – the memory still invigorates me."

Harry did his very best not to choke at what he was hearing the old Headmaster say. He changed the topic, not wanting to hear of Dumbledore's affairs in the past, and said quickly, "So Professor, what brings you here?"

"You," Dumbledore replied simply. "I just wanted to know how you feel."

"Okay," Harry said. "The sore feeling is less and…"

"You know I'm not talking about your physical health at the moment, Harry," Dumbledore reminded Harry.

"My mind," Harry said. "It feels a little less heavy. And I can remember a few more things. I remember meeting my parents and asking them all those questions. I now remember how they told me that it was an illusion I was trapped in. They made me promise that I'd try to leave that world. But what happened after that, I do not know." With that, he told Dumbledore about meeting his parents and then watching a vision of Hermione in the Hospital Wing. However, that's all he remembered.

"Well, you've remembered something at least," Dumbledore observed. "That's an improvement, isn't it?"

"I guess so," Harry agreed.

"I'd still advise you not to think more about it," Dumbledore said. "It will improve with time, and you'll remember everything at the exact opportune moment you are meant to."

Harry noted mentally that he had understood Dumbledore's cryptic words. This came as a surprise, because he had always believed Dumbledore to be a bit mad. He believed that the Headmaster sometimes made the funniest and the strangest remarks. But he realized that this time even though his manner of using the words was the same, still he had understood the meaning behind them.

"Sir, what happened?" Harry said. "How did I get trapped in that world?"

"It was the spell that Voldemort used on you at Hogsmeade," Dumbledore answered. "It's an ancient curse and is called the _Entrapment Curse_. It traps the mind in a delusional, ideal world so that the person who is under this curse does not want to leave that ideal world. It is one of the strongest and the most dangerous curses in the Dark Arts, and one of the least known ones too. Very few know it exists, even fewer know how to counter it or throw it off."

"Then how did I recover from it?" Harry asked.

"Because you possessed the strength of mind to realize that it was an illusion and the real world, even though harder and less desirable, was the right place to be. You didn't take the easier route out, you chose the right one," Dumbledore answered.

"Are you here to explain everything to me?" Harry asked.

"I'm here to give you the possible reasons," Dumbledore replied. "First of all, let me tell you that I took the liberty of bringing this book that was under your possession. Why don't you take and read it a bit?"

Harry diverted his attention towards the book. It was 'The Ancient Secret of War'. It still looked the same as it had when he had first seen it, almost as if it were under a strong preservation spell. He took it in his hands and placing it on his lap, opened it. The first page was completely blank. He looked up at Dumbledore, who was watching him intently, his eyes twinkling. Upon seeing Harry's gaze upon himself, he smiled at Harry reassuringly and gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

Harry turned the leaf over. The second page was also blank. There was not a single mark on the yellow, coarse parchment which looked as if it had seen many ages on the planet. Then he turned over the page one more time.

On that page was drawn the portrait of one of the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen. In fact, she was downright the most beautiful woman he had seen. The face looked as if it were carved in the likeness of a Goddess. _Maybe she is a Goddess, _Harry thought. Her eyes were blue, her hair a most captivating gold, and her skin smooth and fair. It was as if her form was touched by no frost and she dwelt upon the Earth in its morning, even when the flowers were in full bloom and the grass wet with glistening pearls of dew. Harry stared at the picture and his heart gained solace; a welcome calm spread through his form.

Dumbledore was forgotten, as were his surroundings as Harry reminisced one of his memories – one that he didn't know he had in his mind:

_It was a cool evening, and he found himself in a forest, an open forest glade. It was a clearing almost like a circular meeting room. It seemed to have been shaped by hand, yet something told Harry that it was not so. The place had a distinct old-world feel to it and seemed to Harry that the alcove by the lake where Hermione and he had spent her birthday was a mere extension of the land he was in at the moment._

_He was surrounded by tall trees, whose bark was magnificent silver and leaves golden. It looked like the trees were covered with gold – such was the dazzling splendour of those precious leaves. The sun was fading, and the stars were gathering their light – to shine once more when all worlds went dark._

_Harry moved about in the glade. He could see nothing except for the trees around him, the exposed darkening sky above and the grass beneath his feet. The moon rose; even as the sun faded away completely and its light disappeared from the walls and the floor of the glade. It was a breath-taking sight as the glade was filled with moonshine. Harry felt as if he was walking on silver and surrounded by walls of silver capped with god. Here, were jewels of the world, wrought by nature._

_The glade did not need any light – such was the pure white light that emanated from the waning moon. Around it, the stars were twinkling merrily. Their light was overcome by that of the moon, yet they could be seen ever so clearly, glittering against the dark background._

_Though Harry could not see any living soul within sight, he now started haring gentle voices ringing with unknown melodies in an unknown language. It was like the soothing murmur of the wind, and appeared to have encompassed within itself the very life-force of the earth. Harry could distinctly feel within the song, the rustling of the leaves, the sound of flowing water, the merry crackling of a warm fire and the calls of innumerable and unnamed birds and beasts. All these sounds of the earth were all inter-woven as one in that heavenly music and a single melody was formed – rich, varied, articulate and beautiful – the song of the earth itself._

_The voices that sang this beautiful symphony were rich as if melody to them was of second nature. They seemed to Harry, to linger just beyond his range of vision, just beyond the distance which his eyes could pierce and perceive._

_It seemed to Harry that the music was a celebration of the earth and the life that it nurtured in its womb. But a while later, the tone changed, as did the music that flowed from the lips of those mysterious singers. As the new melody began, Harry felt the visions of stars and moons cloud his eyes. He felt himself walking in strange and distant lands – in places where the stars were different, and the moons strange. Yet he felt the sorrow that those voices contained. It was as if they were all mourning for something that once was - something they gave up - something they sacrificed._

_Suddenly, a white light began shining to Harry's right. Even though he did not understand the language that the songs were being sung in, Harry felt the joy and wonder the latest melody contained make a way into his own heart and fill his mind with a sense of anticipation and reverence._

_The white light was coming closer every minute and Harry now saw the outline of people walking towards him. But it was the person at the fore that caught his attention. He could decipher not a single face anywhere, but that person, seemed heavenly. The very sound of that person's coming to enliven his spirits and raise the anticipation in his heart._

_Harry took one step closer and then he saw her – the same woman he saw in the book. She wore a smile on her face as her eyes fell upon Harry and sparkled with a variety of hues that Harry could not decipher. She was wearing long robes of what seemed to be a white fabric. But Harry felt that she wore the very soul of the earth because her robe and her presence seemed to bring all under her influence._

_She spoke out to Harry in a melodious voice that seemed like the sound of a trickling waterfall in a dense rainforest, "Welcome Harry Potter! You've come from far and through many perils to this realm. Do not let your heart be troubled now. Take some rest now. When the morning comes, we shall sit together and I shall give you what you seek."_

"_I seek nothing," Harry said._

"_Then I'll give you something that you deserve," the lady said._

Suddenly, Harry felt himself being shaken out of his reverie. He looked at Dumbledore who was silently looking at him in a curious, analytical manner.

"Who is she?" Harry asked Dumbledore, pointing to the portrait he was holding.

"Why do you ask?" Dumbledore said.

"I just think…I might have met her…" Harry replied. "In fact, I believe I have."

Dumbledore's eyes shone in understanding and joy as he heard this. He suggested to Harry, "Why don't you read on Harry?"

Harry turned the page once again, even though his mind still dwelt upon the splendour and royalty the portrait exuded. The next page contained hand-written text. Harry flipped the pages of the book once and saw that it was all written in the same, looping hand. The text read –

_Here lies an account of the history of wizards, as they appeared on the Earth and formed the governing the White Council under the will of Queen Impraeclar. Here follows an account of all that the wizards did in their time on the planet before they passed away with the Elves, and also the secret of their own ancient powers, lest our knowledge of these matters becomes too scarce and we are forgotten to the world of the future…_

Harry read on fascinated. If the book did indeed contain what it claimed to contain, it contained the knowledge of the very race of the wizards themselves.

_Three thousand lives of men have passed since the Five Wizards first appeared on the Earth. They were brought here at the will of the Great Power that governs the universe and brought to terms with the ways of the world by the pious power of the Elves. They appeared as old men, robed and cloaked. It is now the Order of the wizards that has established itself as a saviour of the world, even as the time draws near for them to leave the realms of the place they have been calling 'The Realm of their Keep' for the last three hundred millennia…_

Harry's mind began spinning at this. So, were these wizards all extra-terrestrial beings like those extra-headed cartoons Dudley loved to watch on television? He took a breath and read on –

…_Four of the five wizards have all similar powers and were cloaked in blue. The Head of the Wizard Council though, is the White Wizard, and the council is named after him as the White Council. Many a year have passed since the White Council met together – another sign that the time of the Five Wizards is drawing to a close._

_The remaining four Wizards have now begun travelling across the length and breadth of the continents to find their successors – ones to whom they would pass a part of their magical powers onto – ones who could protect the beings on the earth from great evils that the nameless fear residing in darkness may dare to send forth…_

That was all Harry could read at the moment. His head was already spinning with all that he had read. He needed someone to explain all that he had read in a simple, agreeable tone so as to believe all of it.

He looked involuntarily at Dumbledore, who seemed to have guessed his predicament. He asked Harry, "Do you want me to explain the rest to you?"

Harry nodded. Then, on second thoughts, he asked, "How do you always know what the person in front of you is going to say?"

"I've been granted the gift of foresight, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "And I have no doubt you will understand how or why before this night ends. I daresay it is going to take a long time. So why don't you keep the book aside? I'll explain all you need to know for the moment."

Harry nodded.

"This book, Harry," Dumbledore began, "as you might already have guessed, is indeed a history of the entire wizarding race. It tells us about how the five wizards appeared of the sea, sailing on handsome ships. They took their residences in different parts of the world and dwelt there. It was their job to assist the human race in facing and fighting any evil that might be perpetrated.

"At that time, the race of Elves also reigned supreme on the planet. They were all wise, tall, handsome beings. They were immortal, like the wizards, and cared deeply for all that grew on the planet. It was the queen of the High Elves, the Queen Impraeclar, who first summoned the five wizards together and formed the White Council. It was she who imparted them their positions of honour within the council."

"Professor," Harry said, thinking aloud, "The Elves. Are they the ones who the centaurs call their masters?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes Harry," he said, "The centaurs are an ancient race existing for longer than we could ever imagine and the elves were an even more ancient race. The elves loved to teach everyone the meaning of the very soul of the earth. They taught not only the centaurs but also so many other species…trees, birds, flowers…"

"Then why don't we see them now?" Harry asked.

"I'm coming to that now," Dumbledore said his eyes twinkling at Harry, "You are young and want all explanations quickly. I'm old. I need time to think and deliberate before I say anything.

"You see, Harry," Dumbledore continued, "The Elves lived for thousands of years here on this planet. Finally, when they had faced all kinds of evil and had warded them off, they were all granted a choice – a choice to either pass into the Blessed Realm and remain a reclusive species that had no concerns for the future and the goings-on in the world, or to stay here and dwindle into a rustic folk with few memories of the great things they might have done. For the time of the Men was fast approaching – a time when Men would rule the whole earth."

"And they took the first choice of passing into the Blessed Realm…" Harry trailed off. He could see the logic behind the answer.

"Not all," Dumbledore corrected him. "Some of them had grown to love the earth and all upon it so much that the grief of parting was too much for them. They remained behind and slowly lost their abilities, one by one. Their immortality was taken away as had been foreseen and they merely continued to live on, serving wizards – something that they never had imagined doing in their heyday."

"House Elves?" Harry asked for a confirmation of his thoughts.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Isn't it sad," Dumbledore began, "That a race whose wisdom and thought are unparalleled in all the annals of history was made a slave by us? The House-Elves might not have the wisdom and the power of the Elves but they are wise and powerful in their own right. We generally look only at their external appearance, their talk and their will to survive to form our opinions about them, never once remembering who they were. We never once remember that they are bound to us not by our greatness, but by the consequence of a choice they made aeons ago."

"What was the Blessed Realm?" Harry asked.

"It was…I don't know…But I guess you could call it heaven," Dumbledore replied.

"Who gave the Elves the right to pass into the Blessed Realm?" Harry queried again. "And what have the Wizards got to do with the elves?"

"Many things," Dumbledore replied grimly, "Along with the Elves, even the Wizards were given the choice to pass into the Blessed Realm in view of their services to the free worlds. The Wizards accepted that choice, even as most Elves had. And so they passed away from the dimensions of this world.

"However, before they departed, they were also worried about the future of all the humans on the planet. For even after all the evils they had fought in their time, evil was sure to take a new form and a new design. In that case, if the wizards did pass away form the Earth, it would mean that the fight between good and evil would always start with the odds heavily stacked in the favour of evil."

"So they taught people magic?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "That's the general idea. The wizards knew that all humans had the ability to manipulate the various elements of nature and energy. They were also aware that some humans had more ability towards this than others. So, they picked those more promising ones and taught them their own arts – the most elementary ones. Thus began the education of magic as we know it."

_As Dumbledore said this, a lost memory came to the fore of Harry's mind. He found himself sitting on the most sweetly fragrant grass. The blades were green as could be imagined, and exuded a unique freshness. Before him, sat the Elf Queen he had seen earlier._

"_Who are you?" Harry asked her._

"_I am the Queen of the High Elves, the Keeper of the Wizards' staffs," she told Harry, "Impraeclar is my name."_

"_Where am I?" Harry questioned._

"_In a place where few mortals have come before you," came the reply. "Do you know why you've come?"_

"_No," Harry answered. There was no point lying about things he did not know._

"_Are you afraid?" the Queen asked him._

"_No…and yes…" Harry replied._

"_What is the meaning of your words?"_

"_I'm not afraid of your demeanour," Harry answered, "But I'm afraid of what lies beneath. I see a cloak over you, a cloak that hides what you really are…all you really possess. I fear that cloak, not you."_

"_Wisely answered," the Queen replied. "I see you are deemed for great things. I perceive a mark over you which speaks of that…Rest now for you have had a long journey…through the gravest peril, that of being a prisoner of your own mind. I will summon you after you have had your rest."_

_With that, the Queen rose and with her departure, Harry's memory faded and he found himself back in the Hospital Wing listening to Dumbledore._

"I've met her," Harry said, "I've met Impraeclar."

"The memory of the Queen of the Elves is something that is a privilege beyond any on this planet," Dumbledore said. "You will realize the same when you understand more."

"Sir," Harry began after a while, "you said that the wizards taught their followers only the most elementary skills. Then how can we do so many things with magic?"

"No barrier can stop you, Harry, if you possess the will to learn," Dumbledore replied. "In time, after the wizards passed away, the original followers taught their skills to others and the magical community grew as they in turn, taught many more. The wizards did teach them only the elementary arts – ones that were just about sufficient to help them fight evil. However, with the passage of time, newer skills were also discovered and the scope and powers of magic grew, even to where we now stand with it."

"But what you are saying is merely 'history'," Harry objected. "What's it got to do with the present."

"I'm coming to that now," Dumbledore said. "You see, Harry, this book contains all information about the powers of the wizards. It states that if any wizard or witch from the human race showed enough promise, he or she could acquire the powers of any of the Five Wizards, based on the tests he or she would have to give. In ancient times, at a stage when Muggles and magic were not estranged from each other, kings and emperors had great wizards and witches in their courts. Some of them had the powers of one of the Five Wizards as well. Their powers helped the king or the Emperor to win wars, conquer lands and fulfil all his ambitions. Even the great Merlin was one such wizard."

"But he was the greatest," Harry interjected.

"Indeed, he is still the greatest," Dumbledore agreed. "Harry, when you give the tests for acquiring the powers of the Wizards, you are only given powers according to your abilities. Such is the nature of these tests. Your mental power, will, willingness to work hard…all these qualities are evaluated. The greater share of qualities you have, the greater powers you are likely to get. Now, the interesting thing is that this book speaks of how to acquire the powers of four of the Five Wizards. It also describes the power of those wizards and how to use them. But, strangely, it doesn't speak of the powers of the White Wizard – the most powerful of them all. A strange coincidence you might say. Yet we know that those powers exist. Do you know how?"

"How?" Harry questioned.

"Because," Dumbledore answered. "There has indeed been one person in history who has acquired those powers."

"Merlin." Harry whispered. Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, the great Merlin," Dumbledore said. "Merlin the wise. Merlin the guide. Merlin the beacon of hope. Merlin the White Wizard. Indeed, Merlin was the White Wizard. But few people know of this."

"How do you know then?" Harry asked, even though he felt that he knew the reply.

"Because I myself am a member of the White Council," Dumbledore replied. "Because I am Albus Dumbledore, one of the four attached to the colour blue till such time as my life lasts."

Harry looked at Dumbledore in awe. But the Headmaster pretended not to have noticed this and continued, "All the four wizards, Harry, are said to have been given a very prolonged life aside from all their other superior powers. But the powers of the White Wizard cannot be matched. From Merlin's accounts, the White Wizard has the gift of immortality on top of everything. But it is still a secret as to how a person may become the most powerful wizard alive by assuming those powers. It is a secret that could win lands, vanquish enemies and gain lordship over all, for the White Wizard can conquer all. That is why it is the Ancient Secret of War.

"Many who have somehow come to know of the White Wizard's existence, have tried to get to this pinnacle. But all failed and had to settle for lesser abilities. One of those was Tom Riddle. He tried, but could not go beyond the abilities of one of the Four. Pity that he later became Lord Voldemort. Pity that he turned blue into black."

"So why tell me all this now?" Harry asked, wondering where this was heading off to.

"Do you believe in God, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"What's that got to do with what I asked?" Harry questioned in return.

"Everything." Dumbledore replied. That one word spanned all.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "I mean, the Dursleys never took me to Church now, did they?" There was a nervous edge to Harry's voice.

"I'm not speaking of the concept of religion, Harry," Dumbledore said. "They are many. I'm speaking of the thread that binds them – the faith. I'm talking more so of the concept of God."

"I don't understand. I don't know-" Harry began but the Headmaster broke in.

"Let me put it this way," Dumbledore said, "It will make it easier for you to grasp my words. Do you believe that there is a Supreme Being with such supernatural powers which exceed the limits of our wildest imagination and keep the entire universe under His sway? Think carefully and answer."

"I think I do believe that," Harry replied after a while.

Dumbledore said, "Then why do you think that the Supreme Being, whom we have named God, does not give us a clearer proof of His Existence even though He certainly has all the powers of the world at his disposal?"

"I don't know," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Think hard, Harry. The answer is right before you."

"Maybe because He does not want to," Harry replied tentatively.

"But the question again is 'why?'" Dumbledore said. "Why would He not want to assert His Dominion over us, when we clearly cannot match up to His Powers."

Harry said, thinking a bit, "Because maybe He is not allowed to."

"Who imposed that restriction on Him?" Dumbledore asked. "Clearly, there is no one in the universe who can supersede His Supreme authority. Clearly, He is the greatest, isn't he? So who can stop Him?"

"I don't see any meaning to all this," Harry objected. "Why are you asking me?"

"Patience, Harry," Dumbledore said, "Patience. You have to realize that patience is a very important virtue to possess. As for my questions, they have a common purpose – to make you understand."

"Then why don't you do so already?" Harry snapped.

Dumbledore ignored Harry's tone and continued, "Harry, God does not exert His direct influence, which is more than likely to betray His Existence because He might have made Himself abide by the very laws that He has laid down for all others. It is His way of justice, a unique one, almost poetic justice, some might call it, but it might be true nonetheless."

"And what are those laws?" Harry said, beginning to comprehend.

"The most important law," Dumbledore said, "that governs the universe as it is made, is that power is always given to every being in direct proportion of the faculties that being possesses, especially the ones that suit the wielder of such powers. You will never find unwarranted gifts in the hands of unworthy beings. That is nature's way, God's way, of maintaining balance in the world."

"But what about Voldemort?" Harry questioned. "Isn't he unworthy of the powers he possesses?"

"Voldemort is not unworthy of his powers, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Even when he was Tom Riddle, he was brilliant and worthy enough. He was just not pure enough in his heart. He is evil, yes, but when you think of it, you'll ask what is evil, if evil does not know how evil the light seems to be.

"Power is a great paradox, Harry. Those who don't have it yearn for it. Those who do either yearn for more of it or wish that the power had never come to them. Power does strange things to different people. You must remember that even Voldemort was Tom Riddle once."

"Tom Riddle was no different from Voldemort," Harry said, "He opened the Chamber of Secrets. He murdered his own father."

"Don't be too harsh in meting out your judgement of others before knowing everything, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You never know the way another person's mind works. I daresay that you and I might have met the same fate had we been in Tom's position. Whatever anyone says, I have sympathy for the boy I once knew."

Harry laughed at this.

Dumbledore saw the fits of laughter that his student had broken off into and said gravely, "This is no laughing matter, Harry."

"No laughing matter?" Harry exclaimed. "You are Voldemort's greatest enemy and you say you sympathise with him. This is funny, even beyond fun."

"I didn't say that I sympathize with Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "My sympathies are with Tom Riddle."

"They are both one and the same," Harry countered.

"No, they are not," Dumbledore replied. "Tom Riddle was a promising student, someone who could have done great things for the world even by serving wizard-kind. Yet his choices went astray. He chose to serve himself and so, succumbed to all evil. He became a heartless body that had no shadow left of his former self." Dumbledore spoke sadly and shook his head at the end.

"You speak as if you still harbour hope of Lord Voldemort reforming himself," Harry observed.

"This is not mere jest, Harry," Dumbledore spoke, "There have been moments in time when Lord Voldemort might have turned aside from evil. He was offered choices, but he always ignored the right ones and so, became more and more entrenched in the Dark Arts. I don't know if his fate will give him one final chance to correct himself. Yet I feel that there is no way whereby he could fully return to the path he left fifty-five years ago, even if my heart hopes otherwise…No, I do not think that will ever happen now…not now…not ever."

"Why do you still wish the impossible?" Harry asked.

"Because I don't want you to become a murderer," Dumbledore replied.

"It is my destiny," Harry said. "To be a murderer or be murdered. You told me yourself."

"Yet it is not your fate," Dumbledore said. "Destiny lies in a man's own hands. Destiny can be altered, fate cannot."

There was a silence in the room after this.

Finally Dumbledore spoke, "As I told you Harry, the Five Wizards specified for their powers to be assumed by the worthy, after they passed away. Each wizard was given foresight, whereby they could prepare themselves for prospective evils, besides other powers. However, it does take many years for the wizard to master those powers. Indeed, I'm not so sure that even after all these years, I can bring all the gifts I was given, into use. Such is the great paradox.

"When I first saw Tom Riddle, I could sense in him all the makings of a great wizard. I used my foresight, and I saw that he was destined for greatness. I don't know how the Dark clouded my vision, but it did. Seeing Tom for three years gave me enough confidence towards disclosing the Ancient Secret of War to him. I gave him the book. I told him everything. At fourteen, he told me he was ready to take the tests."

Dumbledore had a faraway look in his eyes. Harry saw sadness in there and maybe a hint of repentance. He was hanging on to every word that the old Headmaster spoke.

"I should have seen it then," Dumbledore sighed. "Tom was too eager. He also had this deep sense of being wronged by world that dwelt in his heart. I should have known that these were dangerous signs, but I took them to be an urge to prove himself. I let it go. I allowed him to take the tests."

"What happened then?" Harry asked.

"I was confident at the time when he went that here was one who could become the White Wizard, someone in the likeness of Merlin. But when he came back, he had the blue raiment on. I didn't stop to dwell on it though. I had at least, been proven correct on some counts. Here indeed was one of the most powerful wizards in the world – one in the making. Yet, now that I think of it, it becomes clearer. Apparently, he wasn't pure enough of heart, his soul not deserving enough to gain absolute power."

"When he came back, I perceived the transformation he had undergone after a few days. Till then, he had already begun unleashing the evil that he had succumbed to. He opened the Chamber of Secrets. It was then that I realized what I had done. It is a burden that I've been carrying for the last fifty-five years. I have been the cause of the plight of the wizarding world and I can never forgive myself for that."

There was a long, pregnant silence in the room. The air had become heavy in there and Harry could almost see it with his eyes.

Finally, Harry asked the question that was now foremost in his mind. "Professor Dumbledore, where do I appear amidst all of this? What can I do?"

Dumbledore fixed his eyes on Harry and said, "Harry, I believe you have enough power in you to become the White Wizard."

"What?" Harry exclaimed and sat bolt upright in his chair.

Dumbledore nodded. However, Harry stammered in disbelief as he said, "No, no, Professor…I…I think you're mistaken. How could I be a candidate for the White Wizard's powers? It's more likely that someone intelligent like Hermione can be one…not someone like me."

Dumbledore said, "Calm down, Harry. I know it's hard to believe all this. But I have no doubt that what I said is true. As for Miss Granger, she has potential for greatness, but she is not yet ready for greatness to be heaped upon her."

"So you think I'm ready?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "You have begun showing signs of greatness. Your forays into wandless magic show that clearly enough. Besides, if you stop to think, you will find that even your thinking has gained another dimension. You cannot deny it, Harry. You're coming into your own."

"Why do you believe in me so much?" Harry asked, after a moment's silence. "After all, I could be another Lord Voldemort in the making."

Dumbledore gave a wry smile on hearing this and said, "Let's just say experience has taught me to perceive things more clearly, and judge men correctly."

Silence filled the room again as Harry was given time to collect his thoughts.

"Look Harry," Dumbledore spoke after a while, "You can always think carefully over what I've told you. You can take as much time as you like. I mean it when I say you are ready. Once you convince your mind of that, I will help you attain the next level."

"I understand," Harry finally said. "I do need some time…as you said. Once I know I'm ready, I will come straight to you. But Professor, you still need to tell me why your think I'm capable of being the White Wizard."

"I think I need to correct your assumption there, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I don't think you're capable of becoming the White Wizard. I believe you have already become precisely that."

"What!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, that is my conjecture," Dumbledore stated, "You fulfil all the pre-requisites for giving the tests to become a wizard of the White Council. Had you become one of the four wizards, I would have definitely known. But your magical resonance is too strong even for that. I feel it in the bed you lay upon, in the confines you lie within. I feel it in your gaze, on your face."

"If that's true, why can't I just heal myself and walk out of here at once?" Harry questioned.

"It's not something for jest, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously. "I only said you have the powers of the white Wizard within you. Do you not realize why I've made it clear to everyone that you should be kept away from magic for some time to come? Your latent magical energy was only 'just' enough to absorb the powers you were being offered. That is my belief. Still, there is occurring inside you, a terrible overhaul of all your magical energy. Only when things settle down within you, will you be able to use magic again."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, bewildered at how he had gotten into all this.

"I spoke to the Queen Impraeclar, the guardian of the White Council," Dumbledore replied. "She told me that the white Council has its head again."

"But what does she have to do with all this?" Harry asked.

"You said you remember meeting her," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded.

"For giving the tests to determine whether you can enter the Wizard Council, you must pass temporarily into the Blessed Realm. There you are tried, tested and given your powers. It is the last task anointed to the High Elves."

"I don't remember meeting anyone but the Queen," Harry stated.

"The secrets of healing that have been long lost here among us are still remembered by the High Elves," Dumbledore said. "While you remained in their care, you were fine, even though your latent magical levels were at an all-time low. However, once you woke up in this world again, we could no longer provide you with the same care and healing. Your temporary loss of memory is but a result of the safeguards they wove on your mind."

"What safeguards?" Harry queried.

"Imagine Harry," Dumbledore spoke, "going to sleep thinking of yourself with ordinary abilities and then waking u the next day to find yourself all powerful. The shock, if not anything else, would make you go mad."

"So, this memory loss is a safeguard for ensuring my own sanity?" Harry summarized.

Dumbledore nodded in the affirmative. "You could say that," he said, "As you begin to accept these powers, and I say accept, mind you, not learn, you will remember more and more until all gaps are finally filled."

Harry nodded. He understood the gist of Dumbledore's explanation.

"How long will I have to stay here?" Harry questioned.

"Only a few days more," Dumbledore answered, "until you regain enough strength to perform and withstand magic. Having said that, you might notice a surge in the force of your spells. So, I'd advise you to be careful about the magic you perform…If there are no immediate questions, I'll leave now. As it is, I've given you much to ponder over and I, for one, also have many outstanding issues to resolve, least of all informing the school of your awakening."

"Actually, I've three questions," Harry said, "Why tell me all this when I cannot use the powers? And how do your know these things if the powers of the White Wizard are entirely secret?"

"Knowledge is most preferable when the mind reels in questions," Dumbledore replied. "As far as my knowledge of this affair goes, I've only told you what I went through and what I believe is uniformly applicable to all wizards of the council. That's why the identity and powers of the White Wizard are the Ancient Secret of War. Very few know of his existence and no one knows surely about all the powers he commands. Those, I believe, are the answers to your first two questions."

"Sir," Harry said, "if what you said about the White Wizard's powers is true, couldn't I just use them to defeat Voldemort?"

"You'll first have to learn of those powers, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "And it might take more than a life age to do that. And if you do, you might find your outlook much changed," With that, he got up and left Harry to sort out the world of information just given to him."

Author's Note:

Many thanks to all those who read and reviewed last chapter. I loved them all, even though I might not have replied to them. The last two weeks had been very busy for me despite the break from college and all, since I'd gone on a trip with my friends.

Secondly, this chapter is greatly influenced by the Lord of the Rings. This was under the plans for the last six months and I remember telling the readers beforehand in some chapter or the other that I intended to borrow 'certain' concepts from the Lord of the Rings. Having said that, **this is not a crossover fic.**

Anyways, this was a pivotal part of the story. I'm really glad to get it done. Hope you like it. Till then, bye.

Special Note:

I've started my own fanfic group – mordorianarmy over on yahoo. If any of you want to join, you'll be most welcome. The URL is http/groups. 


	22. Scent of Treachery

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Scent of Treachery**

"He is awake," A high-pitched voice said to Harry, obviously trembling in fear.

"Awake? Very interesting." Harry said. All he could see was darkness and a silvery, shiny mirror of some sort. It was filled with mist that Harry's eyes could not penetrate, though the voice was clearly coming from within the mirror itself.

"You've done well, my apprentice," Harry said. "You shall be duly rewarded when you meet me."

Harry suddenly found himself awake again as someone was trying to shake him out of his dream. He looked up to see Neville trying to wake him up.

"Neville!" Harry exclaimed. He put on his glasses and looked across to the wall-clock on the other side of the ward. It was still early afternoon and the sunlight filtered through the windows lighting the ward with variegated hues and even succeeding to some extent, in lessening the heavy winter chill. It seemed to Harry that the light near the windows was even brighter and he guessed that it was the sunlight getting reflected by the snow. It was now his fourth day in the Hospital wing and had been told earlier that it was the first time the sun had peeked through the snow-laden clouds in the past very many days.

"Harry, are you okay?" Neville asked anxiously and stuttering a lot. "I thought you were having a fit or something. So I woke you up."

Harry smiled at the question and sat up in his bed. He had been allowed to walk around within the ward, but had tired himself soon. He was getting better by the minute, but he hadn't yet regained his full physical strength. Harry said, "A lot of people have asked me that question in the past few days. I'm fine, just a dream really. Nothing big." Harry didn't voice his feeling to Neville that it was a vision, not just any regular dream.

"So how come you're not in class at the moment?" Harry asked.

"I'm free for the day now," Neville said. "Actually, Hermione told me to check on you, since she has Arithmancy at this time. She couldn't come over at lunch since she had a meeting with McGonagall."

"Honestly, I've told her I'm not a baby who needs looking after," Harry said rolling his eyes while Neville gave a grin.

"Where is Ron?" Harry asked after a moment of silence.

"He said something about having a headache," Neville answered. "Ginny's really cross with him; tells me he's been working the entire Quidditch team like mad, especially with the next match coming up."

Harry nodded. His absence had resulted in a complete overhaul of the Quidditch Cup schedule. With help from Professor McGonagall, Ron had managed to postpone Gryffindor's first two games. The first game now was to be against Slytherin the next week and the one against Hufflepuff three weeks later. The finale against Ravenclaw was to be held at the normal time on the weekend after the Easter break.

"Harry?" Neville broke in into Harry's ponderings. "Can I ask you something?" Harry nodded.

"What did the prophecy say?" Neville asked again.

Harry was shocked. He hadn't expected Neville to ask this. "I'm afraid I can't answer that, Neville. I don't think you're supposed to know," he said, saying the thing that came first into his mind.

"Don't tell me what I'm supposed to know or do. I've had a lifetime of that," Neville spoke indignantly and Harry marvelled at the harsh tone of his voice. "I was there with you when you took the prophecy. I had it in my hands before it slipped and broke in front of my own eyes. You bargained and bought my safety from You-Know-Who during the Hogsmeade attack by using it as insurance. And still you say that I'm not _supposed _to know?"

"It's something that only a few people know about," Harry reasoned. "Voldemort wants it desperately."

"He'll never hear it from me," Neville assured Harry.

"Well then, it appears that I must tell you. After all, it concerns you closely also," Harry began, ignoring the look of surprise on Neville's face.

"It says that the one who has the power to vanquish Voldemort was born nearly fifteen and a half years ago towards the end of July, with his parents having opposed and escaped him thrice. IT says that Voldemort would mark this child as an equal and the child would have power that the Dark Lord does not know of. Either of these two bearers of the prophecy can live while the other survives. One must die at the hand of the other."

"And who is that child?" Neville asked, holding a breath.

Harry replied, Dumbledore told me that the prophecy could have equally applied to either you or me. Both our parents worked against Voldemort and escaped him on three occasions. However, the attack on my parents' home, their murder and the existence of this scar means that I was the one who was marked."

"So that means you are the only one who can defeat You-Know-Who?" Neville squeaked, fear palpable in his voice.

"Looks that way," Harry concurred. "I must either kill him or be killed myself. There is no other path."

"How did it come to be like this?" Neville asked to no one in particular.

"It was all a choice Voldemort made while choosing one of us," Harry said. "I guess he saw a mirror of something like himself in me – a half-blood and all that stuff. Well, it is now futile to think over all this. What is done is done! It's my fate now, and my burden. I would not wish this fate upon anyone, least of all on one of my friends. You've got enough on your plate to be going on with."

"How do you manage to stand up to him, Harry? How?" Neville whispered the question after many moments of internal debate. "I always thought that the Death Eaters were the most dangerous wizards. Every time I see my parents and the state they are in, I get the same thought over and over again. But He…He was different, more terrible than I had ever imagined. WE can fight Death Eaters, we can drive away the pall of dread that the Dementors cast by using a Patronus…But no one could ever harm him…nothing could ever work against him. That was what I felt when I saw him; that is still how I feel. How do _you_ stand up to such evil?"

"Because of the knowledge that I must," Harry said. "Sometimes fear makes things appear bigger and more frightening than they really are. Try and overcome that fear, and half you battle will be won. For starters, try saying his name. It really helps. As Dumbledore told me once, fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"I'm sorry you have to suffer this." Neville said.

"Don't be." Harry responded. "It's not your fault, not mine, not anyone else's…It's Voldemort's fault. I only wish I'd known all these things that I now know beforehand. That way, I wouldn't have gone into the Ministry last year, nor would I've taken all of you with me. Sirius wouldn't have gone to save us then, and he'd still be alive now."

"I didn't know Sirius Black was on our side," Neville said. "I'm sorry you lost him." Harry nodded. "I mean, at least I know where my parents are, even if they don't recognize me. I can meet them when I want. But you cannot do that." There was a faraway look in Neville's eyes. It was the first time Harry heard him really talk of his parents. Neville continued, "You know, I sometimes wish that they were dead. I love them and that's why I can't bear to see them in the state they are in – almost as if they are neither living nor dead – almost as if they feel nothing. At least if they die, I'd know that they are free from all bonds. I'd feel sure that they are alive again, that they are free to feel again, even if it is in another world."

"Can't the Healers do anything?" Harry asked.

"The Healers tried everything in their power," Neville replied. "Gran told me it was six long years before they gave up. Now, they've even stopped hoping for a miracle."

"There is always hope," Harry said. "I've realized that. Yes, I have."

There was a brief silence in which both the boys lost themselves in their own respective trains of thought. It was Neville who spoke first, "I want to help you, Harry. But I don't know how I can do that."

"Just try being a friend through all times." It was not Harry who had replied. It was Professor Dumbledore striding across the length of the ward to where Harry and Neville were seated. His blue eyes were twinkling once again behind his glasses and Harry was sure he could see pride reflected on his face. As he walked, he repeated, "Just try being friends through all times. You'll find it the biggest help. We might have dark times ahead, but camaraderie and friendship can help us survive."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Neville exclaimed, surprised at the sudden appearance.

"Don't bother with the name, Neville! I know who I am." He said and coming over, he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I've known your parents for a long time and I for one, am confident that whether they realize it or not, they are very proud of you. And so is your grandmother. After you told her about the Department of Mysteries incident over the summer, she wrote in saying how she felt that her wish of seeing you as an Auror, like your father, is going to come true. But she asked me not to tell you, lest it should make you, shall we say, vain and arrogant…So don't tell her I told you what she told me not to tell you."

Neville went a little red at the lavish praise heaped on him by the greatest wizard in the world. Harry however paid no heed to this for his mind was enraptured by a similar statement he'd heard someone else close to his heart say, "We're proud of who you've become, Harry. Even if we had the chance to raise you ourselves, we would have wanted you to be exactly like this."

"Well Harry." Neville got up and said, in the process, regaining Harry's attention. "I'll get going now. See you later."

Harry returned the words, "Yeah Neville! Bye!"

Neville walked out of the ward and Harry was left alone with Dumbledore. The old wizard observed, "You've many loyal friends, Harry!"

"I don't know why though," Harry replied with half a grin. "I don't know what they se in me. Still, I'm not complaining. They are here for me always. Only I don't know what I can give them in return."

"Friendship is not about giving and taking. That's what you'd call business." Dumbledore explained. "It is the realization that there are things more important than pure logic. Your friends love you. They stick by you because they want to. They help you in all circumstances because they know the real 'you'."

"I hope so." Harry said. "I just wish I wasn't so dangerous to be around."

"You are not dangerous, Harry." Dumbledore said. "You are perilous, yes, not in the least due to the powers of the White Wizard that you now possess…But that's not different from many other things in the world."

"Don't remind me of that." Harry said dully. "I still don't know whether to believe all you said or not. I don't feel any different from inside. I don't feel a change."

"Then we'll wait till such time when you begin to do that," Dumbledore said. "For now, (at this, he delved into the pockets of his robe and brought out a wand which Harry immediately recognized) here's your wand. You're free to leave the Hospital Wing and perform magic, if you desire. Only, don't do that magic in the corridors, or Mr Filch will no doubt have some things to say to me." He gave Harry a twinkle of his eyes. Harry grinned and took his wand. He cast a levitating charm on the neighbouring bed and it rose up in the air.

"Very impressive," Dumbledore observed smiling. "And one more thing before I go, Harry. I'd very much like you to take up extra lessons in Transfiguration, Occlumency, duelling and everything else that will help you prepare. I had been meaning to ask you ever since the beginning of the year, but you could say that I was waiting for this moment."

"You knew this would happen?" Harry asked.

"I had a feeling it would," Dumbledore replied cryptically. "And yes of course, I hoped…Now I must be off. I've to tell Poppy that you are ready now to leave her care. I daresay she'll insist upon giving you another thorough check-up before letting you do that. Might I also add that she has grown rather fond of having you here in her care?" Harry did not dare figure out what the last remark had meant. He saw Dumbledore get up and walk away.

All of a sudden, he asked the old professor the question that was now foremost in his mind, "Sir, is there no hope for Neville's parents?" Dumbledore paused and slowly turned around. Harry could see sorrow being reflected in his eyes.

"What do you think?" Dumbledore asked in return. "What do you feel?"

Harry looked lost at the question and could merely shrug his shoulders. Dumbledore carried on, "I think it is as you told Neville. There is always hope…Miracles do occur in our lives…Every day that we pass on this planet…every bit of joy that we feel…every bit of sorrow…everything is a miracle in its own right. So knowing that miracles do exist, you could always hope for more, couldn't you?"

* * *

Harry walked out of the Hospital Wing later that evening accompanied by Hermione. As Professor Dumbledore had predicted, Madam Pomfrey did indeed give Harry another head-to-toe examination before she let him leave.

As they walked, Harry bumped right into…

"Watch out Potter, where you're going," Draco Malfoy spat. "You wouldn't want me to hex you into a coma for two months again, would you? I'm sure the people who look up to you as their saviour from the Dark Lord would want that to happen now, would they?" Malfoy added the last part with an all-knowing smirk.

Harry was too lost in thought owing to Malfoy's last statement to attempt to retaliate. He stood there thinking even after the Slytherin had passed. Hermione gently touched him on the shoulder. "He knows," Harry spoke in a barely audible whisper, as if to himself.

"Who, Harry?" Hermione asked. "And what?"

"Malfoy, he knows," Harry said. "And if he does, then so does…then so does Voldemort…Hermione, we must go see Dumbledore immediately." Hermione nodded and they set off at once.

Harry reached the gargoyle, which immediately leapt aside on receiving the password. Harry didn't knock but barged in directly. "Does Voldemort know of the prophecy?" Dumbledore looked up at Harry. He had a questioning look on his face.

"Malfoy knows. I'm sure then that Voldemort knows too." Harry said. Dumbledore nodded. "I'm sure then that we'll get the news soon enough. Why don't both of you sit down and make yourself comfortable. It might prove to be a long wait."

"Are we waiting for someone?" Harry asked, not bothering to comply to the suggestion.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. Harry sank back into a nearby chair.

"Will anybody tell me what is going on here at the moment?" Hermione asked. Harry knew that simply not knowing what was going on must be driving her crazy. He looked towards Dumbledore and hope he'd answer that question.

"I'm afraid you will have to answer it yourself, Harry," Dumbledore said, "I am as much in the dark as Hermione is."

Harry began, "I told Neville about the prophecy earlier today. From what Malfoy said to me outside the Hospital wing, I think he overheard us somehow and now knows the prophecy. I've no doubt he would have informed his father first up, and he…"

"And he in turn would have informed Voldemort," Hermione completed the sentence. "But couldn't Draco be lying…taking a shot in the dark maybe?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so," Harry said. "I felt it in his look, in his demeanour – he knows it for sure."

"You seem to have assumed that Mr Malfoy is working for Voldemort," Dumbledore observed.

"Of course, he is," Harry replied heatedly, "His is a clan of Death Eaters. They are all evil."

"Don't be childish in your judgement, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. "Your hate for Mr Malfoy seems to be clouding your judgement. Feel what you've seen…you'll reach the conclusion soon enough…And I daresay your conclusion then, will be much different from your current conclusion."

"And what may you have concluded?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

Dumbledore answered, however, as if he'd not felt Harry's implied words, "That Mr Malfoy is not the spy here. This worries me the most, Harry, more than any news I've heard over some time now. I'm sure you are correct in your assumption that Voldemort knows of the prophecy now, but it cannot be through Mr Malfoy. So how does he know? Who is the spy in our midst?"

"You might be ignoring the obvious in letting go of Malfoy, Professor," Hermione said quietly.

"Think rationally, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "I daresay that you of all people should know how unlikely the obvious can be. So, I advise both of you for now: Wait."

"Who are we waiting for?" Harry asked the Headmaster.

"Severus," Dumbledore replied simply. "He was called away earlier in the evening. Voldemort has summoned his followers. Something is moving."

"What is Professor Snape doing there?" Hermione asked. Dumbledore didn't reply. Hermione didn't know about Snape's past.

"I asked what Professor Snape is doing with Voldemort," Hermione repeated her question.

"He's been our spy, hasn't he?" It was Harry who spoke, intently looking at Dumbledore, who was seated serenely behind his desk. Harry did now know where he was getting this information from. It was like someone or something was supplying him with the required information. "He's been our spy for the last sixteen years, and he still is."

"Yes he is," Dumbledore said, tiredly withdrawing himself from Harry's gaze. "That's all you can know or all you need to know for now. There is no point in asking me for more information." The last remark seemed to be meant exclusively for Harry.

"But…" Hermione began. It was apparent that she was in the dark and did not like it at all. It seemed to her that she was witnessing the contest of two wills – of Harry and Professor Dumbledore. Hermione knew that Professor Dumbledore was much more powerful and wiser – not in the least because he was older. But it was strangely apparent that it was Harry who was winning the duel of their wills.

"No Hermione," Again it was Harry who spoke. Dumbledore was still maintaining an impassive silence. "It's something between Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape. Professor Dumbledore is right. We should not ask him for further information on this."

"A wise suggestion, Harry," Professor Dumbledore seemed to agree as the twinkle came back into his eye. "Now Hermione, if you don't mind, could you please call Professor Bickerstaff here?" By the looks of it, it seemed to Harry that Hermione did mind. But it was also apparent that she did not want to say no to Dumbledore either. So, she nodded and giving Harry a curious look, exited the Headmaster's office.

As soon as she went out, Dumbledore said to Harry, "You've much to learn, Harry. You might have won the contest tonight, but your real enemies in the war will be much tougher to break."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"I'm talking about how you read my thoughts accurately," Dumbledore said.

"I did what?" Harry exclaimed, not quite believing his ears.

"You read my thoughts regarding Professor Snape," Dumbledore explained. "It was evidently an involuntary form of Leglimens since you did not realize it yourself. It must be one of the new traits you are beginning to develop. But you'll be required to hone your skills further."

"I felt Malfoy's emotions today when I met him," Harry said. "I could feel the anger he feels for me, and the loathing. It was quite similar for Neville. I could almost visualize the questions he had in his mind even before he asked them."

"Yes, that is a natural progression, the first step towards being a successful Leglimens," Dumbledore said. "You've begun feeling others' emotions and the intensity of their thoughts. With proper training, you will be able to sift through them and decipher the precise meaning of those thoughts and emotions."

"Who will train me?" Harry asked.

"I will," Dumbledore answered without hesitation. He got up and walked around to where Harry was standing. He placed a hand on the young man's shoulder and said sincerely, "I don't know if I've told you this, Harry. Old age seems to weaken the memory somewhat. But I will do all that is there in my power to help you fulfil the prophecy."

"You've always done that," Harry responded. "Always."

"And I don't intend to stop now," Dumbledore said, smiling. His eyes seemed a little moist.

"So, what do you want to train me in?" Harry asked, after a while.

"Advanced Transfiguration, a bit of duelling and self-defence," Dumbledore answered. "But most importantly, mind control and wandless wizardry. We'll decide on other things later as and when your abilities manifest themselves. If you are ready, we could start next weekend after your Quidditch match. I daresay Mr Weasley will want to work his Seeker very hard before that."

Harry nodded. "Why did you call Professor Bickerstaff?" he asked.

"Elijah is a very wise man and a very capable wizard, as I have no doubt you think yourself," Dumbledore answered. "He's been an integral part of our entire decision making in the Order. I wanted to inform him of Severus' situation."

"What about Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked. "Have you told her?"

"I'll tell her when the time comes," Dumbledore answered. Harry didn't argue. He knew Dumbledore always had his reasons.

After a while, Harry spoke, "You know, I get this feeling that you sent Hermione to fetch Professor Bickerstaff because you wanted to talk to me alone."

"What makes you think that?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"I told you," Harry said. "I got this feeling."

"Well you are correct, to some extent," he said, "although I did want to talk things over with Elijah as well."

"Let's try something, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Why don't you come over here by the window?" Harry did as was asked of him. "Now look out from over here," Dumbledore said from over his shoulder, his hands motioning towards the dark outside the window. "Can you see anything?"

Harry strained his eyes. He saw nothing. "No," he shook his head.

"Try concentrating on the thoughts of one person – someone you've met," Dumbledore suggested. Harry tried; concentrating on the first person who came to his mind – Sirius. As if on cue, Dumbledore said, "That person needs to be alive." Harry nodded and concentrated on the image of Lupin.

Slowly, he felt his vision get obscured by a certain fuzziness. He concentrated harder, which meant that the mist before his eyes cleared. He could now see a warm room with fire lit in the grate. There was a table near the fire and on it was seated…Lupin. Harry sucked in his breath as he saw how real it looked. He tried to concentrate further…to take a closer look at what the last surviving Marauder was doing, but to no avail. No sooner did he try to do it than the mist began closing in again and his sight of Lupin began slipping from his gaze as if he was trying to hold fine grains of sand in his grip which slipped at a faster rate the more he tried to hold them there. Finally, his eyes perceived the darkness of the night again.

"Good." Dumbledore said. "May I know who you tried to see?"

"Remus." Harry said. "Only for a few moments though. It was all blurred and quick. I couldn't understand a thing."

"Very few can," Dumbledore said. "It is very difficult, nigh impossible, to maintain a telepathic vision. But even glimpses of what you can see and who you can see can help you immensely in many cases. Now, why don't you try to focus on another person – someone who doesn't quite elicit the same feelings in you as Remus does."

Harry's thoughts immediately turned to Snape. After all, the Potions master was the reason that he had to endure this wait in the Headmaster's office. He tried concentrating, but to no avail. Snape seemed to have lost himself somewhere beyond the extent of Harry's gaze. Harry realized the futility of his efforts and changed his choice of person.

He concentrated his mind on the snake-like image of Lord Voldemort's face. Nothing happened at the beginning. Then suddenly, Harry found himself getting sucked into a void. His scar started burning like it so rarely had – something like he had experienced that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries when Voldemort had tried to possess him. He was merged in body and soul into the coils of a snake-like creature. Harry almost forgot who he was…what he was…where he was…He had lost all his sense of orientation.

He was under the power of a creature with many coils – twisting, coiling and uncoiling the many folds of its skin. However, this time around, he felt no pain, only a sense of shock at the sudden occurrence. He tried to wrest his mind away from the creature, as he felt himself enclosed by a certain barrier, almost as if he were being somehow trapped. Finally, the grip of those coils loosened, and Harry could feel the fresh air and the life within him…again.


End file.
